


i'll keep you (my dirty little secret)

by hedahearteyes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexa, F/F, Smut, clarke is dating finn but he agreed to her getting a fuck buddy, clarke is really fucking thirsty but can you blame a girl?, clexa endgame duh just give them some time to get there, fuck buddies, mild bondage, they have plenty of sex to hold you over until they do, will add characters and relationships as they appear/are mention, will add tags as events occur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedahearteyes/pseuds/hedahearteyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has been with Finn for five months and it’s okay. It’s not extreme passion and desire, but it’s been good. However, they haven’t had sex for five weeks and Clarke is slowly going crazy. She’s a sexual person, she likes having sex, preferably a lot of it. So she decides to find herself a fuck buddy.</p><p>Enter Lexa. Writer, part-time college professor, bad-ass with a motorcycle and fucking hot. </p><p>They agree to no-strings-attached sex, but then, of course, sex turns into more and they have to start asking themselves what, and <i>who</i>, it is they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. doomed since the beginning with you

**Author's Note:**

> IS IT CHRISTMAS? No, but it sure as hell could be. 
> 
> A while back I got the idea for this fic, started writing it, abandoned it and then got into it again today. So I wrote 3000 words in 5 hours and here it is. Please note that this was not beta'd, so there may be mistakes. 
> 
> Also keep in mind that Clarke is dating Finn, but I'm Clexa trash, so don't worry about the endgame here. There may be some Clarke/Finn interactions, but this is mostly pure Clexa.
> 
> And then one final note: this is a work in progress and I suck at schedules. So updates won't be regular, but I am 100% in it to finish it. The entire story has been mapped, I just have to write it. 
> 
> Now, please enjoy!

There is a very small amount of nervousness coursing through her veins, which is probably due to the very possible chance that she is about to meet with a total creep. 

(Which will totally be her own fault considering she posted the fucking ad on Craigslist of all places. To be fair, she has seen weirder things posted on that website.) 

Still, she is nervous, but she has to do this, because quite honestly, she’s about to go insane and very well might if this Lexa person isn’t who she says she is. Clarke really needs her to be who she says she is. Hell, she doesn’t even have to look remotely like the picture – which is fucking gorgeous, so if she does that would just be fantastic. But really, she doesn’t, because if everything goes according to plan Clarke will have her eyes closed most of the time she’s around this woman anyway. 

Taking a deep breath, Clarke crosses the street. She halts before entering the dinner and checks her appearance in the reflection of the window. 

Blue skinny jeans that show of her long legs and natural curves; excellent. 

Red t-shirt with a low enough cut to show off her cleavage but isn’t too trashy; superb. 

Leather jacket with the sleeves pushed up; sexy touch.

She nods to herself and straightens her back in a show of confidence as she enters the diner. It’s a cute place she’s never been to, never even heard of before this Lexa suggested it as their place to meet. Clarke agreed instantly, because a diner in the middle of the day is neutral ground. Nothing too bad can happen to her there and if it does, there are probably plenty of witnesses. 

She realizes she is coming up with worst case scenarios, but really, that is to be expected if you consider the nature of Clarke’s request, the reason for this meeting. 

Still in the entrance she scans the diner. She’s five minutes late and Lexa already noted that she’s a punctual woman; right on time is late to her. In light of that, Clarke is probably not making a great first impression. But who cares about first impressions when she may be walking into her grave? No, she thought this through. Agree on a time to meet, show up late and see if the woman is already there. If no one in the diner looks anywhere close to the woman in the picture Lexa sent, then Clarke will be the hell out of there before anyone even knew she was there in the first place. 

Looking at the people occupying the booths, Clarke feels an odd disappointment begin to settle when she’s running out of faces and still hasn’t spotted anyone even vaguely resembling Lexa. But then she sees her, in a corner booth, the only one not near a window, reading a book and Clarke actually, honest to God, gasps. Apparently, this Lexa looks nothing like the fucking gorgeous woman in the picture she had sent and Clarke, honest to God, is actually gaping at her now, because Goddamnit, this woman is far prettier. She’s far more gorgeous and really, if Clarke had to be crude and think like a dude, she’s fucking hot. 

From where she’s standing near the entrance, she can’t see much of what Lexa is wearing, but just the sight of her white blouse with only the top button undone and her sleeves rolled up over her elbows, showing of sun-tanned skin, is enough to send Clarke’s imagination into overdrive.

All the nervousness leaves her body and replaces with excitement and arousal and Clarke sighs, because that tells her two things. One, it really has been way too fucking long and she has no idea how she’s still alive and two, this is never going to be a one-off thing like she low-key hoped it would be. Just once to get it out of her system and hold herself over until Finn found himself again. She had survived five weeks without now; she could surely survive another five if she just had something to hold onto. 

But seeing Lexa and noticing the way her body already responds to her – allowing herself to, just momentarily, entertain the things her mind is already conjuring up – Clarke knows this is not going to be a one and done kind of encounter. 

Doesn’t matter though. She discussed this with Finn and he agreed and surely this whole situation won’t last much longer than a month, two tops. So she takes another deep breath and makes her way over to the corner booth, clearing her throat to announce her presence and having to bite her lip in order not to gape at the other woman again. Lexa is looking up at her with eyes far greener than the picture made them out to be – admittedly, the lighting in the picture left much to be desired, but still – and Clarke needs an actual moment to get herself together. 

“Lexa?” She finally asks, her voice cracking a little at the end.

“Yes. You must be Clarke.” Clarke simply nods and only moves to sit when Lexa motions to the empty booth across from her. She places her purse on the table and shrugs out of her jacket before getting comfortable and daring to look at Lexa again.

“So,” Lexa clears her throat and the action is almost awkward, betraying a nervosity Clarke herself only briefly felt, “about your ad.”

“Yes. Do you have any questions?”

“I just wondered... why?”

Let’s take this moment to rewind and go back in time for a bit.

 

Clarke has been dating Finn for some five months, quite happily so. Okay no, that’s not entirely true; it’s what she’s been telling herself, but it’s not true. She is _content_. Finn is kind and good to her and obviously very much in love with her and while Clarke isn’t too sure about the in love part herself, there is certainly a part of her that loves him. 

What also helps is that Finn is happy to oblige Clarke in her sexual desires, of which she has a lot. It’s always been that way: Clarke is a sexual person and if it was up to her she would have sex at least once a day, every day. 

Unfortunately, that’s a bit too much for Finn’s own personal libido and also nearly impossible with his work schedule. He’s at the office until at least 7, sometimes 8 every night, afterwards he comes home, they have dinner, clean the dishes and then he showers before going to bed to read a book before going to sleep. 

If you ask Clarke, there is plenty of time and opportunity to have sex in that time. During the cleaning of the dishes for example, which she will gladly neglect and postpone to the next morning in favor of an orgasm. Or during his shower, which they could share and also save water in the process. Or while he’s in bed reading his book, which really won’t walk away if he chooses Clarke over it. 

Still, they have enough sex to keep Clarke at least mildly satisfied and he’s good and kind, so she’s content. 

Or rather, she was. Some five weeks prior to Clarke meeting Lexa in a cute diner, somewhere in the middle of the city, she found herself getting gloriously naked with Finn. The night was pretty much perfect and Clarke was more than happy to celebrate that with hopefully three rounds of sex, at least. 

There was a moment where Finn initially declined, stating he was tired and had to get up early the next morning, but Clarke persuaded him with her Griffin Charm™ – and the way she popped an extra button on her blouse probably also helped. 

So there they were, in their bedroom, getting gloriously naked. At that point it had been nearly a week since they’d had sex and Clarke was nearing insanity. So imagine her happy surprise when the first thing Finn does, once she’s finally naked and on the bed, is going down on her. Usually she has to ask and he doing it of his own accord is a nice change of pace. 

But it became pretty clear pretty quickly just why he went down on her right away. He was sloppy and obviously unfocused and well... tired. So Clarke pulled him up, asked him what was wrong and with his head hung he admitted that not only was he tired, he just wasn’t feeling it, hadn’t felt it for almost a week now. The evidence of this statement hung limply between his legs. 

Clarke sighed in defeat and disappointment, but she also understood. He’d been working hard, eyeing an important promotion and he was probably just really tired. So she kissed his cheek, rolled him over on his back and told him to get some sleep while she took a shower first. 

(Obviously because Clarke Griffin is a decent human being and she does not get herself off while her boyfriend is sleeping right next to her. No, decent human being Clarke Griffin gets herself off in the shower while her boyfriend is sleeping in the other room.)

She had expected that Finn would come around once things at work calmed down, which they did after about a week or so. But even with enough sleep and reduced work-related stress, Finn still didn’t feel it, still couldn’t get it up. So Clarke waited. Naturally, she initiated taking things further than just a heated make-out session on several – many – occasions, but to no avail. 

After three weeks it became too much. To Clarke, going from having sex three days a week to never is like going cold turkey. It seriously crossed her mind to break up with Finn and go back into the dating scene. But that wasn’t fair to him and that’s not the kind of person Clarke is. She liked Finn, enjoyed being around him. Things were good with Finn and honestly, only the sex was missing. So what she needed was simply someone to have sex with. No strings attached, no feelings included.

Of course that wasn’t an easy thing to break to Finn. He’s a man, he took it personally; Clarke assured him it definitely wasn’t personal. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea for a whole week, but Clarke made sure to bring it up every day. Finally he relented, but requested that she wouldn’t pick someone they knew; it had to be a complete stranger.

Clarke agreed to that and he seemed surprised by it. Maybe he had hoped that the prospect of sleeping with a complete stranger would be unappealing to Clarke, but it wasn’t. There had been many nights before Finn where she found herself in a stranger’s bed and as long as she was sure the person in question wasn’t a total creep and void of any STD’s, she was fine with it. 

It took another four days before Finn was really okay with it and allowed Clarke to post an ad on Craigslist. 

(Don’t ever ask her why she chose Craigslist, because she honestly doesn’t know. Desperate being the only word coming to mind.) 

Just a day after posting the ad she had enough response to pick a different person every night for three weeks. But after sifting through the applications at least half were quickly dropped. The remaining faces were all brought before Finn for further discussion, because he wanted to know who would be sleeping with his girlfriend. Five of them were quickly dismissed because Clarke easily found their pictures on different sites with different names and she wasn’t going to risk picking some dude who lived in his mother’s basement, only playing World of Warcraft and eating McDonalds. 

With five faces left, Clarke had quickly made a decision – it was pretty much made from the moment she saw the picture, but hey, fair chances for everyone. Clarke was fully intending on letting Finn know who she’d picked, but as he looked at the five pictures left he resolutely shook his head. Apparently they were all too good looking and he didn’t want to know because, well, he’s a man, he still took it personally. So Clarke merely told him she made a choice and would set up a meeting and let him know how it went.

 

Enter Lexa and a cute diner in the middle of the city. Of course in her explanation of the events leading up to the ad and their meeting, Clarke left out that they weren’t having sex because Finn can’t get it up. Because she had no idea why it wasn’t working for him anymore and she’s taking it kind of personally, because hello! She’s a good looking young woman; she has sex appeal and knows how to seduce someone. Not getting someone turned on when she wants them to? That has never really happened to her. 

Lexa seems understanding of what Clarke shared of the situation and isn’t at all freaked out or annoyed by the fact that Clarke has a boyfriend who she’s perfectly ha– ... content with, although she shouldn’t be, because Clarke clearly stated it in the ad. 

“I won’t be awkward about this, because I am a confident person and as such am confident in my sexuality. And quite frankly, I like sex. A lot. But like I said: I haven’t had it in while and while lack of sex is not a good enough reason to break up with someone, I still need sex.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. So may I ask why you responded?” 

Lexa takes a nervous sip from her glass of water, obviously staring at something over Clarke’s shoulder to avoid eye contact and it’s clear that Lexa is not as confident about this as Clarke is. That’s not a problem though; if she really wants this then they’ll find a way to help her relax and just enjoy the ride. Clarke is not a selfish, egotistical person; this isn’t only about her and she would be very happy to wait a few more days to put Lexa at ease with the whole situation.

“I was in serious relationship for four years which ended badly about two years ago and I don’t want to start dating again. But I do find that there are certain... physical needs that demand to be satisfied and I am not the type of person to pick up strangers at bars.” 

Clarke nods in understanding, relieved with the fact that Lexa isn’t looking to date anyone and won’t be prone to develop feelings for her. She’s about to say something when Lexa looks up again, stares her dead in the eye and Clarke is taken aback with the sudden intensity of the moment.

“Besides,” Lexa’s voice somehow seems deeper and Clarke notices her eyes now shine with excitement, “you are exactly my type.” 

Clarke swallows hard as she readjusts in her seat, her arousal from the first sight of Lexa now back and obviously present. Lexa is still staring at her, Clarke thinks she can see a hint of a smirk on her lips and she has to breathe in deep. “And what is your type?”

Lexa actually does smirk now, though small and nearly invisible, but Clarke doesn’t miss it and she moves her hands from where they lay clasped on the table to her legs, fingers digging into the flesh as she clenches her thighs. Lexa leans forward after observing Clarke’s body language and Clarke subconsciously follows her.

“Confident. Sexy. I bet you’re dominant and demanding.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Are you, Clarke?” 

Oh, there’s something in the way Lexa says her name and Clarke actually closes her eyes as she lets the sound wash over her. She can feel a familiar wetness gathering between her legs and she practically moans right there in the diner. This is verbal foreplay at its finest. 

(Or maybe Clarke is just really, _really_ , ready to finally be touched again and her want and desire and weeks of waiting are amplifying this moment. Whatever it is, it’s fucking fantastic.) 

“Are you, Clarke?” Lexa asks again when she still hasn’t answered and Clarke opens her eyes to look straight into green ones. 

“Yes.” 

“Good. I like that. But don’t be fooled, so am I.” 

Another deep breath is what it takes for Clarke to gather her bearings and step back into the game. She lets Lexa know, with a smirk of her own, that the game is on. 

“Good. Do you have any more questions?”

Lexa leans back in the booth, posture nonchalant as she shrugs. “One. Are you tested?”

“Yes, I am and I’m clean. You?”

“Same.”

“Good. I have a question too. Do you have anywhere else you need to be today?”

“Just an appointment at five.”

Clarke smirks again when she realizes from the way Lexa is looking at her and starts to sit up that she caught on to Clarke’s intentions. 

“Then we have time.” 

 

And just like that they end up in Lexa’s bed. 

Clarke realizes as they make their way to her apartment – which turned out to be a 15-minute, rather awkward, mostly silent, filled with eye-fucking subway ride – that she hadn’t thought beyond finding someone to sleep with. To be fair, she hadn’t expected their first meeting to end in an exploration of each other’s body, but she is also most certainly not complaining, because that is what she came for. (No pun intended.)

As they make their way up to the 15th floor of Lexa’s apartment building in another silent ride on an elevator this time, Clarke realizes she should have thought of a place to hold these meetings. Surely going to either one of their apartments is way too familiar and also, her own apartment is completely out of the question with Finn living there too. 

She begins contemplating the merits of renting a weekly hotel-room or something when she’s pulled inside an apartment by Lexa and in the next moment promptly pushed against the door, which Lexa has decided to close with Clarke’s body and that is just fucking hot. All thought of hotel-rooms flee Clarke’s brain. 

Lexa’s hands are on her hips, holding her in place as their entire bodies are pressed together and Lexa is sucking at her neck. Clarke can’t help the moan bubble from her throat – yup, definitely been way too fucking long. 

Lexa’s lips move up to nip at her jaw and when she pulls back to look at Clarke’s lips with hooded eyes – which Clarke notices, which causes a wave of arousal through Clarke’s entire body, which should have been her first warning-sign – she remembers she has some boundaries to set. Okay one; she has one boundary. One rule. 

“Stop.” She croaks, voice hoarse with lust already and Lexa’s eyes snap back to hers as she locks her jaw – which Clarke finds way too sexy because that jaw line must have been sculpted by God himself. “I have one rule.” She continues and Lexa nods, the only indication that she is listening and Clarke should continue. 

She takes a deep breath, trying to clear her thoughts for the moment being so she at least sounds somewhat convincing – on the other hand, Lexa is in no position to object to Clarke’s terms, because she agreed to all of Clarke’s terms the moment she responded to that ad. Clarke still needs that breath, though.

“No kissing. At least not on the mouth, everywhere else is fine. Everywhere else is... perfect, actually.” Lexa nods again, swallows once, twice, works her jaw, probably to loosen it and then smirks at Clarke. She leans in, sucking at the flesh of Clarke’s neck again and slowly moving up to her ear until she is close enough to whisper,

“Can I take you to my bedroom now?” 

Clarke moans, then swallows hard before finding her weak reply: “Please.”

In one swift motion, Lexa has her hands on Clarke’s ass and she’s lifting her up. Clarke wraps her legs around Lexa’s waist like they’ve done this a thousand times, like it’s their routine. Lexa holds Clarke close, hands still on her ass and Clarke breathes out a soft “ _fuck_ ”. 

(Finn never picked her up like that – hell, no one has ever picked her up like that and Clarke thinks this may be the hottest thing that has ever happened to her. It isn’t, as she walks home nearly three hours later, she knows it isn’t, but right now her judgement is a little clouded.)

Clarke doesn’t even remember Lexa carrying her down the hall and into her bedroom, but the next thing she knows she’s laying on her back in the bed and Lexa is pulling away from her. Clarke watches for a bit, but the moment Lexa’s hands reach for the buttons of her blouse, Clarke jumps into action. 

“No,” she’s on her knees in no time, reaching out and grasping the hem of Lexa’s blouse to pull her closer, “let me do it.” 

Lexa lets her hands fall to her sides without complaint and watches as Clarke reaches for the top button. She’s taking her sweet time undoing them, biting her lip all the while, and while her pace was probably meant to be torturous, the way she stares at every new inch of exposed skin makes her seem more in awe than teasing.

Truly, Clarke is in awe. From the swell of Lexa’s breasts, covered by a simple black bra, to her visible abs. Clarke is immensely turned on by the mere sight of Lexa. And from there, once Clarke has pulled the blouse from where it was tucked into Lexa’s trousers, everything happens so fast. 

Clarke’s shirt is carelessly pulled from her body and thrown somewhere on the floor behind Lexa; Clarke yanks Lexa’s belt from the loops with one forceful tug, which simultaneously brings Lexa even closer, allowing Clarke to trace her tongue over the lines between Lexa’s abs as she works on the button of her trousers. Lexa sighs contentedly, her hands curling in Clarke’s hair, but then she seems to remember herself and she pulls away. 

Clarke doesn’t even protest, just yanks her trousers down Lexa’s long legs – which are gorgeous and Clarke could probably stare at them for a whole day – and Lexa easily steps out of them before kicking them away. 

She pushes against Clarke’s shoulders next and Clarke takes the hint, repositioning herself so that’s she lying on the bed again. Lexa looks her over once, very slowly, from where she’s still standing and then she settles on the bed too. Her knees are on either side of Clarke’s as she sits back and lets her hands take hold of Clarke’s lacy white panties – they match with her bra and they’re nearly see-through with how soaked Clarke already is. 

The material slides off her legs easily and Lexa dumps it next to her on the floor, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s wet sex. She licks her lips, swallows hard and then looks up at Clarke. Clarke has to take a deep breath at the sight of Lexa’s lust-darkened eyes, the way her cheeks are flushed and her lips are apart and oh the way her head is slightly cocked to the side as she looks at Clarke, like she’s trying to look through her soul. Her eyes are screaming for consent and Clarke can only nod, her breath held in anticipation of what is to come. 

Lexa smirks again, then lowers her body down on the mattress so she’s laying in between Clarke’s legs, which spread immediately in an open invitation. She lowers her lips onto Clarke’s stomach first, kissing up and down, as if telling Clarke that this is what she will be doing to her pussy soon enough. Clarke can feel her arousal drip from her, Lexa’s midriff pressing against her isn’t helping much either. She bucks up in search of friction, but Lexa merely grips her hips with firm hands, long fingers digging into her skin, holding her down and still. 

As if she’s grown bored with kissing Clarke’s stomach, Lexa sighs and moves to her belly-button, where she wastes no timing in dipping in her tongue and swirling it around. Clarke moans in response, because that is one skilled as fuck tongue and there are other, far more interesting places, for Lexa to explore with it. But Clarke seems to have lost all ability to speak, still waiting with bathed breath as her hands grip the sheets around her. 

Thankfully, Lexa grows bored of her belly-button too and she begins sucking a straight line down. As she reaches the tiny patch of blonde hairs leading to Clarke’s wet center, Clarke becomes a writhing mess. Lexa moves her right arm underneath Clarke’s left leg and lifts it over her shoulder as her left hand pushes against the thigh of Clarke’s right leg, spreading her even further as she leans in. 

Clarke thinks she may come from just feeling Lexa’s breath against her clit, she’s so worked up. But then Lexa takes her in her mouth and Clarke moans so loud, Lexa is pretty sure the neighbors heard. But Clarke can’t even find it in herself to be sorry; it’s been five fucking weeks since she’s felt someone’s warm mouth over her throbbing clit and she’ll be damned if she’s not going to make the most out of this.

Lexa sucks on her clit for a minute, somehow keeping her tongue away and Clarke is grinding into her mouth because she just needs some friction. When Lexa pulls away, Clarke whimpers – like a baby, like a child being denied what they want – she actually, fucking whimpers. But then, then the most amazing thing happens. 

Lexa shifts a little, angling herself, and then she presses the flat of her tongue against Clarke’s soaking wet cunt and she licks up, the tip of her tongue brushing over Clarke’s clit before she pulls back to look at Clarke, who’s back is arched off the bed, head thrown back, knuckles white from her grip on the sheets as she releases a long, content “ _aaaaaaaaaah_ ”. 

Clarke is seeing stars already and she vows in this moment to never go five weeks without sex ever again. She doesn’t even know how she survived. 

Soon enough Lexa’s tongue is back on her and she is sucking and licking and nipping, keeping close watch on the way Clarke’s body reacts to her on the sounds she makes. When she does something that makes Clarke’s hips buck up, she does it again. When she makes Clarke moan, Lexa makes sure to repeat her action again and again, each time a little harder until she moves on. She remembers what Clarke likes, sometimes to repeat it later on, sometimes to file away for future reference. 

It isn’t long before Clarke can’t keep still; one hand is now tangled in Lexa’s hair, alternating between pulling and pushing without any real direction. The other moves around the bed, fingers gripping the sheets then flexing; sometimes Clarke throws her arms over her eyes, sometimes she cups her own breast, shortly massaging it. 

Lexa doesn’t have to know Clarke’s body to know she’s close to orgasm, so she lets go of Clarke’s thigh with her left hand and angles her arm so that she can rub Clarke’s clit while she kisses the short way down from her clit to her entrance. She’s not even trying to tease her anymore, so after three licks she pushes her tongue inside and immediately feels Clarke’s walls clenching around her as Clarke nearly screams above her. 

(It’s been five fucking weeks since Clarke has felt anything other than her own fingers inside herself, she will damn well scream when she finally gets fucked again, thank you very much.) 

It takes only two thrusts, combined with the pressure of Lexa’s fingers on her clit, and then Clarke comes. Her entire body stills for a moment, her mouth falls open in a silent scream and when part of her senses return she can still feel Lexa’s tongue slowly working inside her, helping her ride out her orgasm. It takes about three minutes for the aftershocks to subside and for her pussy to become too sensitive to touch, so she grabs Lexa’s hair and pulls her away. 

Lexa rests her head on Clarke’s stomach, catching her breath, shifting as her own arousal – caused very much by Clarke’s expressiveness – becomes uncomfortable. When Clarke has returned to her senses she takes one deep breath and strokes Lexa’s hair almost fondly. 

“Thank you so much.” She says, still a little out of breath, voice hoarse from her moans and screams. Lexa’s short laughter vibrates against her own body and Clarke smiles. 

“You’re very welcome.” She replies and then the silence returns. 

After another moment Lexa looks up, a glint in her eyes, lips set in that seemingly permanent smirk and the evidence of Clarke’s arousal still on her chin – Clarke can’t help but think she’s breathtaking. Which should have been her second warning-sign. 

“So...” Lexa lets the word hang between them as her smirk grows. “You’re loud.” It’s not a question or an accusation. It is a statement, and judging from her smirk, she doesn’t mind at all. 

Clarke laughs again, removes her leg from Lexa’s shoulder and then pulls her up her body. Lexa has no time to settle, because Clarke flips them effortlessly, now straddling Lexa, her sex pressing against Lexa’s stomach. 

“You bet I am.” 

And then she returns the favor.


	2. yet i can't help but love this thing that you do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty quick update, but that's what you get when you're inspired.  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, I hope you'll enjoy this just as much. 
> 
> Fair warning: Finn shows up in this and there's a short description of Clarke trying to seduce him, but he's an idiot.

It’s Two Days After Lexa and Clarke finds herself distracted during lunch with Octavia and Raven. Actually, Clarke has found herself distracted pretty much every hour since Lexa. 

She had expected that her afternoon with Lexa would quell some of her sexual desire, would help her clear her head and think straight again. And while her head is clear – for the most part – she has yet to see her desire quelled. In fact, all she has wanted for the past 43 hours is to go back to Lexa and rip her clothes off. 

(Or have her clothes ripped off, that works too.) 

Unfortunately for her, they decided to limit their encounters to once a week and that means Clarke has to wait another five days before she can go back to Lexa on Friday.

“Clarke, what’s wrong?” Octavia’s voice brings her back to the present, back to her lunch. 

“Nothing. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“You seem distracted, everything okay?” She looks to Raven, whose usually carefree eyes are clouded with genuine concern. 

“Guys, I swear, nothing is wrong, I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About something.”

“Something? Wow, that’s vaguer than the reason my dad left, Griffin.” In classic Raven fashion she lightens the mood at the expense of herself. But this has been their dynamic for years and they’re over – most of – their childhood traumas, allowing them to joke about it occasionally. 

“Something’s different about you, Clarke.” Octavia notes and Clarke should have known that she can never keep anything from her two best friends. She sighs deeply, torn between wanting to tell them, but not exactly ready yet. 

“Okay, yeah, fine, there’s something. But it’s not really bad or life-threatening or anything. It’s just a thing that I will share when I’m ready.”

“I swear to God, Clarke, if you’re pregnant and thinking of an abortion, I am dragging you to your mother by your ear.” Octavia threatens and Clarke looks at her incredulously, one eyebrow expertly raised. 

“Did you miss the part where I said it wasn’t that bad?” 

“Or the part where she hasn’t had sex for more than a month?” Raven quips, asshole smirk plastered perfectly on her face. 

Sure, as her best friend she feels sorry for Clarke that she hasn’t gotten any in that long, but as her best friend Raven is also extremely amused with sex-deprived Clarke’s antics. And usually, when Raven mentions Clarke’s lack of sex, the blonde bursts into a highly passionate rant on the unfairness of it all. 

However this time, Clarke merely drops her head on the table with a grunt. That’s new. 

Because this time, at the mention of Clarke’s lack of sex, Clarke is reminded of her _not so_ lack of sex. Clarke is reminded, once again, of Lexa and her fucking tongue and the five days that she has to wait and how she really doesn’t want to wait. 

Sure, Clarke knows that what she’s doing is a little wrong. She wasn’t supposed to want Lexa this much, but it’s only been two days and Clarke has just now learned how wonderful an actual, other person induced, orgasm is again. 

It’s like high school and your first crush who you, after long moments of awkward touching and undressing, sleep with for the first time and while it is far from perfect, it is a whole new experience and all the hormones and the post-orgasm bliss make you believe that you are definitely in love and this love will last forever. 

And then three weeks later you both move on and you can’t believe you ever thought you loved that idiot. 

Yeah, well, Clarke is still in the post-orgasm bliss phase. Right now, all she can think of and feel and hear and _want_ is Lexa. But Lexa is pretty much synonymous for orgasm and that’s what she really wants, so this low-key obsession with Lexa right now is all about the sex. In a few weeks it’s going to fade and they’ll just be two young women enjoying casual sex.

(It’s only two days after Lexa and Clarke has thought about Lexa non-stop, while trying to figure out why she can’t stop thinking of Lexa and really, the fact that Finn and his feelings never crossed her mind should have been her third warning sign.) 

Raven and Octavia drop the subject, thinking Clarke’s reaction is a sign of her becoming numb to her lack of sex.

//

It’s Four Days After Lexa and Clarke finds that spending the whole day practically soaking wet because she is a constantly turned on, horny mess is rather inconvenient. 

At night, she dreams about Lexa. A very vivid reconstruction of the things Lexa did to her. She wakes up wet. 

During the day, she thinks about Lexa. A very vivid imaging of the things Lexa could do to her. She only gets wetter. 

Right now, Clarke isn’t sure what’s better. Not having sex and craving it or having sex and wanting nothing more than to lock herself in a room with Lexa for about a week. 

And you know, that wouldn’t even be such a bad idea if it wasn’t for Finn. 

Honestly, despite discussing it and him agreeing, Clarke feels a little guilty. But only because she can’t stop thinking about Lexa. There’s nothing else for her to feel guilty about. 

Clarke didn’t tell Finn what happened after she met Lexa that Friday afternoon, so for all she knows he thinks they just talked and discussed the details of their arrangement. 

(They did that as well, Lexa turned out to be a very pragmatic woman.) 

And Clarke thinks she’s been doing a pretty good job at acting normal around Finn – not like she’s been thinking about Lexa every minute. And Finn doesn’t seem to notice that she is distracted more often than not, so it’s all good. 

Still, Clarke feels a little guilty and that’s why she’s stepping into her favorite set of lingerie right now. She’s fresh out of the shower, her hair is still a little wet and in a minute, when she’s done, she’ll flick it over her shoulder to the front so the water will drop between her breasts and he can’t help but notice. 

And then she’ll try, _again_ , to seduce him. She’s kind of hoping that his obvious jealousy will spark something inside him. And maybe if they sleep together again, she won’t be thinking about Lexa every day and they can call off their arrangement and things will go back to normal. 

Exiting the bathroom and stepping into the bedroom, she sees Finn just taking off his shirt to get ready for bed. 

“Hey.” Her voice is purposely low, her smile is purposely flirtatious, she’s playing with a strand of wet hair. She’s pretty sure anyone with a libido would want to jump her right now. 

He turns around, smiles a soft “hey” at her and turns back around to take off his jeans. Clarke frowns, but okay, alright, he may be too tired to read her intentions from her subtlety. 

She stalks closer, wraps her arms around his body and leans against his back. 

“Are you tired?” She asks, as her hand rubs over his stomach while the other rests at the waistband of his boxers. 

“Yeah, long day today and long day ahead tomorrow.” 

“I can help you relax.” She purrs and her hand is about to slip inside his underwear. But then he catches her wrists in his own hands and pulls her away from him and Clarke frowns again. 

(For two reasons. One: what the actual fuck? And two: Clarke remembers when Lexa caught her wrist in her hand four days ago – her long fingers wrapped around it completely and their softness made Clarke shiver before Lexa pushed the hand inside her panties so Clarke could feel just how wet she was too.) 

He turns around, smiles down at her in what she assumes is supposed to be an apologetic way and kisses her forehead. 

“Not tonight.” He says. _Not any night_ , Clarke thinks. 

She nods, turns around and walks back to the bathroom. Angry, confused and right now, even hurt, she takes off her underwear – her favorite pair, her _best_ pair. How did this not work? – and forcefully throws the set on the laundry pile. 

She is washing them tomorrow and then she is going to wear them on Friday and Lexa is going to be enjoying them like Finn could have tonight. 

When Clarke returns to the bedroom in just a t-shirt, Finn is already on his side of the bed, night lamp off and back turned to her. She gets in bed without another word.

//

Friday comes and the nervosity now filling Clarke is nothing like the nervosity from a week ago. She knows what’s going to happen now, she knows what to expect yet she doesn’t. 

Lexa texted her the evening before. The message was simple and informative and left Clarke in anticipation: _I will be home around twelve and have a dinner appointment at six. Don’t be late._

Clarke had her entirely schedule cleared just for today and now that twelve o’clock was nearing, and Clarke was making her way to Lexa’s apartment, she hoped that she was allowed to stay until Lexa had to start getting ready.

That would mean they had about five hours all to themselves and if Clarke couldn’t lock her into a room for a week, then five hours would be a very welcome alternative. 

Standing in front of Lexa’s door, Clarke smoothes out the material of her sundress before knocking. She takes a deep breath, buzzing with anticipation and a little nervous that the moments in between Lexa opening the door and them actually getting into bed will be awkward and uncomfortable. 

But then Lexa actually opens the door wearing just her jeans, which are unbuttoned, and a black bra. It’s not the same as last week; this one actually has white lace adorning the edges. 

Clarke stares for a moment. First at the bit of matching black panties she can see, then her abs, which Clarke still feels tremble against her tongue some days and can’t wait to feel again, before her eyes finally snap up to Lexa’s.

Clarke smirks, “Getting started without me?”

Lexa smirks right back, “I was actually changing into something a little more… alluring. But when the doorbell rang and I wasn’t ready, I figured this would save time.” 

Clarke’s nerves were for nothing. This is what they’re good at; flirting and playful banter and challenging smirks. She steps closer, her hand reaching out to push Lexa back inside the apartment. 

“I like the way you think.” She says, as she closes the door with one hand, the other still against Lexa’s stomach. Once she has backed her against the wall, Lexa’s breathing already heavy, she kneels and descends her lips against Lexa’s waiting skin. 

Lexa moans immediately, as if she has been waiting for this moment just like Clarke has been. Clarke licks the same line between Lexa’s abs and it does its job of reminding the both of them, again, of their last time together. 

Clarke runs her hands up Lexa’s sides in time with her kisses trailing upwards. When she reaches her breasts, Clarke wastes no time in unhooking Lexa’s bra. She slides the straps down her shoulders and when the garment falls away her lips immediately attach around one already erect nipple, while her thumb swipes over the other. 

Lexa hums as Clarke laps at her breast, groans when she pulls her nipples between fingers and teeth. She was already wet with anticipation before Clarke showed up, felt it in her clit when she saw the blonde again and is now struggling not to whine and beg Clarke to get on with it. 

She won’t give Clarke that power yet, but also won’t wait any longer. She trails her hand down her own side and over her stomach, tantalizingly slow and almost reminiscent of the way Clarke did just that last week. 

When Clarke notices the hand moving between them, she releases Lexa’s nipple with a wet pop.

“What are you doing?” She asks, looking up at Lexa, already knowing the answer. 

“What you came here for. But you’re wasting time, which I thought we wouldn’t do.” In a challenge Lexa moves her hand further down, fingers now playing with the lace at the waistband of her panties. Clarke smirks up at her, something sparkling in her eyes. 

“Well,” she says, returning her attention back to Lexa’s chest, now focusing on the previously neglected breast, “I’m not stopping you.” 

Lexa smirks in response, even though Clarke can’t see it. She moves her hand inside her panties, waiting for Clarke to take her nipple into her mouth again. But she doesn’t and when Lexa looks down, she sees Clarke is looking down as well. At Lexa’s hand in her own panties, about to touch herself while Clarke is right there. 

Clarke holds her breath in anticipation. She wouldn’t normally watch if she’d walk in on someone masturbating, but she isn’t walking in on this. There’s something hot about the thought that Lexa can’t wait, something hot about the thought that she will most likely be thinking of Clarke while she fingers herself.

(Clarke can’t help but wonder if she thought of Clarke in the past week, like Clarke thought of her.)

Lexa’s hand begins moving again and Clarke watches, as best as she can see with her clothes still in the way, how she runs one finger through her own drenched folds. Then the hand emerges from her panties and she holds out the finger to Clarke, glistening with the evidence of Lexa’s arousal for her. 

“For you.” She says and Clarke groans at the sound of her voice having deepened with lust. 

Clarke wraps her fingers around Lexa’s wrist and takes her finger into her mouth, licking it clean and marveling at her first taste of Lexa. She releases the digit slowly, then looks up again at Lexa while she guides both their hands back inside Lexa’s panties. 

“Now stop wasting time.”

Lexa cocks her eyebrow in response and starts rubbing her clit gently with Clarke’s hand following to feel every motion. At the same time, Clarke’s lips fall back against Lexa’s nipple with a moan. Her tongue swirls the same circles around the erect peak that Lexa’s fingers rub around her clit. 

But after a while it’s taking Clarke too long and while Lexa is still paying attention to her own clit, releasing soft sounds above her, Clarke runs her fingers through Lexa’s wet lips. 

Lexa bites back her moan as Clarke’s fingers circle her entrance and she clamps her hand in Clarke’s hair so she has something to hold onto. 

Clarke is contemplating her options. She still tastes the little bit of Lexa on her tongue and wants nothing more than to descend her mouth on her and make her come with her tongue like she made Clarke come last time. But she is also very much enjoying helping Lexa fuck herself. 

The choice is easily made when Lexa’s hips buck up and two of Clarke’s fingers dip a little inside her. Lexa moans and Clarke decides that eating her out can wait. After all, they have about five hours and no time to waste. 

Clarke stands up, her fingers still teasing Lexa, but she wants to reposition herself a little more comfortably before actually fucking her. 

She leans against her body, pushing Lexa back against the wall, and her lips touching the space on Lexa’s neck, just between her ear and jaw line. Clarke learned last week that it’s a sensitive spot, but didn’t dwell on it then. Now she is intent on abusing that knowledge. 

She leaves a soft kiss first, but when she finally pushes two fingers deep inside Lexa she simultaneously sucks on that very spot. Lexa’s gasp turns into a moan as she shudders against Clarke. 

Clarke keeps nipping and sucking as her fingers curl inside Lexa and Lexa uses her own fingers to pinch her clit. Her free hand still in Clarke’s hair, she pulls her back enough to look at her. 

“How did you know?” She asks, already breathless. 

“You coming the moment I licked you there last week was a dead giveaway.” 

Lexa is silent for a while, trying to replay to that moment to see if Clarke is right and her orgasm really was kick started by a simple lick, but she’s too focused on the here and now. On the way Clarke’s fingers pull out, then push in and curl twice before repeating. On the way her own fingers apply pressure to her clit in time with Clarke’s thrusts and on the way she can’t stop grinding against both their hands. 

She admits defeat with a roll of her eyes. “Just don’t leave a mark.” 

“Don’t want anyone knowing you’re getting laid?”

“Considering I won’t hear the end of it from my sister, no.”

“As you wish.” And with that Clarke returns to Lexa’s neck, simply licking and nipping at her spot. 

They remain like that until Lexa can’t stop her moans anymore and starts grinding harder. Clarke pulls out – to which Lexa huffs in disagreement – and takes Lexa’s hand in her own. She pushes it down to Lexa’s entrance. 

“You finish it.” Clarke whispers in her ear. Lexa’s brows furrow in confusion. 

“I want you to finish it.” She protest. But Clarke growls in response and then her free hand comes up to grab a handful of Lexa’s curls and pull her head back. 

She presses Lexa’s hand harder against herself as she looks her in the eye and Lexa is determined not to break eye contact, the moment much too intense. 

“I said, _you_ finish it.” 

Lexa gulps but nods anyway and dips two fingers inside herself. Clarke’s hand remains on hers, just like their gazes never leave each other. 

Clarke is helping Lexa push in deeper than she’s ever been and Lexa certainly doesn’t miss the way she bites her bottom lip between her teeth. She wants to say something, something sassy or snarky, something to regain some control, but then Clarke groans as Lexa thrusts in again and she can feel her walls clench around her own fingers. 

Three more thrusts and Clarke is watching as Lexa’s head falls back against the wall, her eyes closed and mouth open. 

Clarke helps her ride out the orgasm and then pulls her hand back, resting it on Lexa’s hip as she her other hand releases Lexa’s hair only to start playing with the little hairs at the nape of her neck .

When Lexa’s breathing has returned to normal and she opens her eyes to look at Clarke, she smiles apologetically.

“Sorry.” Clarke is about to look away, but Lexa releases her own hand from Clarke’s hair and takes hold of her chin to remain their eye-contact. 

“Don’t be. We already established that we’re both dominant.” Lexa eyes are soft and Clarke nods with a small smile. 

She’s never been shy of her more demanding side, but usually it only comes out when she’s been with someone for a while. 

“And I will make you pay later.” Lexa’s voice snaps Clarke from her thoughts and she is met with that insufferably sexy smirk. Clarke breaks out in a wicked grin. 

“I can’t wait.”

//

When Clarke returns home around 5:30 she is surprised to not see Finn waiting for her on the couch. For a moment she is confused, until she reaches the kitchen and finds the note tucked to the refrigerator door.

_Hey babe, I had hoped to see you before I left, but I couldn’t reach you. I’ll be back next Friday._

In her excitement over her afternoon with Lexa, she had completely forgotten that Finn was about to leave on a business-trip. He had mentioned it on Wednesday morning during breakfast, she had been distracted and wasn’t really listening. 

He mentioned it Wednesday evening before he went to bed and she remembers asking him some details, but none of it stuck. 

He had said his goodbye’s Thursday evening before turning on his back and falling asleep, but Clarke was too busy imagining what Lexa might have in store for her and she didn’t even wish him a goodnight. 

In that moment, a part of her feels relieved, but Clarke didn’t recognize that yet. Instead, she basked in her post-orgasm bliss. 

In a good mood and happy to have the house to herself, she texted Raven and Octavia to ask them if they were free and wanted to come over for alcohol, pizza and bad television. By some miracle, neither of them had any plans this Friday and that’s how, nearly an hour later, Clarke finds herself opening the door for her two best friends. 

“Party time, Griffin!” Raven yells as she enters and Clarke rolls her eyes at Octavia, who enters the apartment in much more civilized manner. 

They brought three pizzas from their favorite place, three bottles of wine and two bottles of vodka. As Clarke looks at the bottles now presented on her dinner-table, she thinks that maybe they have a problem, but quickly shakes that thought of with a laugh. 

Raven, who was in the kitchen getting glasses for their drinks, whips around to look at her, then looks around the room is if she’s trying to find the source of laughter and finally settles on Clarke with a suspicious look on her face. 

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” 

Clarke scoffs in response, “What? I can’t laugh at something in my own head?”

“No? And that sounds weird. Why are you weird?” Raven steps closer to Clarke and Clarke involuntarily takes a step back. 

“Octavia is right, something is different about you. O! Come look at Clarke with me.”

Octavia emerges from the living room, where she was setting up the couches so they could lie down on them. 

“Why?” She asks, not particularly interested. 

“Because you’re right, something is different.” 

Octavia and Raven stand side by side, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and Clarke stands by the dinner table, nervously playing with the hem of her shirt. 

She knows she has to tell them, they’re her best friends. And if she doesn’t tell them and Finn mentions something to them, they’ll get pissed she didn’t share. 

Plus, Lexa did something with her fingers today that may have made Clarke a religious woman and that is something she can’t keep from her idiot best friends. 

“Jesus fuck, will you stop with the scrutinizing?” She asks, throwing her arms up. 

“Not until you start talking.” Octavia supplies. 

“Fine. Pour me a triple and I’ll talk.” 

Raven looks somewhere in between impressed and concerned. “A triple? That bad?”

Clarke groans. “That _good_.” 

 

Fifteen minutes later they’re sitting on the couches, pizzas on their lap, vodka still burning their throat and all eyes on Clarke.

“Okay, first of all, I need you guys to not judge me. I have thought this through and I am in complete charge.”

“Clarke, when have we ever judged you?”

Clarke fixes Octavia with a glare and Raven puts up her hand in an attempt to protect Octavia from bodily harm. 

“Okay, what she means is, when have we ever judged you when it was real serious?”

“Yeah, that. Just spill, Griffin.”

Clarke takes a deep breath. “You know how Finn and I haven’t been sleeping together for a while.” 

They nod. Raven, of course, has to say something. “Painfully obvious, yeah.”

“Thank you, Raven. Anyway, I was going fucking crazy, like to the point that I almost couldn’t get myself off anymore, you know? And Finn and I were constantly fighting and I was getting cranky, so I figured, I just need to have sex. I need to have sex and I will be fine.”

Raven and Octavia’s eyes begin to widen in understanding; they know where this going. It can’t have any other outcome.

“So I discussed it with Finn, told him I just needed someone to have sex with and we’d be fine. And after a while he agreed, so I posted an ad on Craigslist an-“

“CRAIGSLIST?” Raven exclaims. “You posted an ad on Craigslist? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“It’s a miracle you’re not fucking dead yet.” Octavia adds. 

“Guys, what the fuck! I don’t know what I was thinking, I _wasn’t_ thinking. I don’t fucking know, okay?” 

Raven and Octavia soften at that and they motion for Clarke to continue. 

“Did you get a lot of hits?” Raven wiggles her eyebrows.

“Tons.” Clarke smirks. 

“Good for you, Griffin.” Raven holds her hand up for Clarke to high-five and with a shake of her head, she does. 

“Anyway, I got into contact with someone. And that’s what’s different. I’ve been having sex.” She stares at Raven and Octavia, nervously awaiting their reaction. 

They seem to be thinking of what thing to say and what questions to ask first and then speak at the same time.

“Since when?”

“How many times?”

“Since last Friday and twice including today.” Clarke is about to take a bite from her pizza when she backtracks with a casual wave of her hand. “Well, we’ve seen each other twice, but I came like six times.”

Their jaws drop at the same time and Clarke can’t help but smirk at them.

“ _Six_ times?” 

“ _Today_?”

Clarke simply nods.

“You are telling us everything, Griffin.”


	3. now somehow we're changing our ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clexa gets domestic, Anya shows up, Finn is an asshole and Raven and Octavia are the voice of reason. Also, Clarke does a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling generous today, so here's chapter 3. There's no smut, sorry guys, but that is because chapter 4 will be mostly smutty - hint, it's Lexa's payback. I am still pretty sure you will like this one, because there's cute Clexa and some setting up for the progression of the storyline.

As a general rule to their arrangement, Clarke doesn’t linger too long after they actually had sex. There is no cuddling or helping each other get dressed – or one watching while the other gets dressed – and there is definitely no sleeping over.

But this particular Friday afternoon Clarke can’t quite get herself out of Lexa’s bed. She had observed the first time around that her mattress is ridiculously soft and the pillows are insanely comfortable, and don’t get her started on the way Lexa’s sheets feel against Clarke’s naked body. She could live in Lexa’s bed.

Lexa chuckles very softly under her breath as she enters the bedroom, staring for just a second at Clarke rolled up in her sheets.

Clarke’s head emerges from beneath the sheets at the sound and she looks up to see a stark naked Lexa leaning against the doorframe with two mugs in hand. Clarke unabashedly stares and Lexa smirks.

She saunters her way over to the bed as Clarke sits up against the headboard, the sheets pool at her waist but she doesn’t attempt to cover her own nakedness; Lexa has seen it all already.

Clarke eyes Lexa’s legs as she makes her way over and she doesn’t even blush when Lexa has to clear her throat to get Clarke’s attention again. By now, three weeks in, they are both very aware of their attraction for each other.

Clarke’s takes the steaming mug of tea, holds it in both her hands and waits until Lexa is settled beside her before she takes a first tentative sip. She hums softly at the sweet taste of honey.

“I’m so glad you don’t have anywhere to be tonight. I don’t think I can walk for another hour at least.”

Lexa chuckles again, louder this time and Clarke eyes her with an amused expression. “That’s adorable.”

“Oh please.” Lexa scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the nearly invisible blush tainting her cheeks and Clarke thinks that may be even more adorable. It should have been her fourth warning sign.

“Anyway, you will need to get up soon. I have a dinner for one to prepare.”

“That sounds so sad.”

“I am anything but.” Truly, Lexa has gotten quite fond of the silence and as a writer, she appreciates being alone. The space allows her to think without interruption.

“So you’re never lonely?”

“I do have friends, Clarke.”

“You do? I’ve never heard you talk about them.”

Lexa looks at her with a mischievous smirk. “That is because we don’t talk much.”

“Touché.” Clarke smirks as well and holds out her mug for Lexa’s to cling. After that they fall into a silence as they drink their tea. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is heavy with something.

Probably with the fact that they indeed don’t talk often. They’re not friends, they barely know anything about the other’s life and that isn’t a problem, because their arrangement was to have sex together. Not have heart-to-hearts about their life and times.

That’s also why Clarke never stays longer than fifteen minutes after they have recovered from the last round. In those fifteen minutes they talk about what they’ll be doing that weekend, thank each other for the amazing orgasms and then part with a simple “see you next week”.

Clarke doesn’t really know what’s different this time and why she decided to stay longer than usual. Maybe because Finn has been acting weird since he got back from his trip on Tuesday. Maybe because Lexa was still on top of her, softly nipping at her neck, long after they had both recovered and then promptly got up to make tea and the thought of leaving never even crossed Clarke’s mind.

It’s crossing her mind now and as she’s finishing the last of her tea and she’s thinking that maybe she overstayed her welcome. And even if she hadn’t, even if she was welcome to stay as long as she wanted, she should be leaving.

Staying and talking and basically doing anything other than devouring each other is breaking their hastily set up rules. And they don’t have many to begin with, so they shouldn’t be breaking any of them.

There’s only five really.

1\. No kissing on the mouth  
2\. No staying after sex/sleeping over  
3\. No communication outside of the occasional text to confirm details  
4\. No naming each other to friends and/or family  
5\. No feelings

That last one was obvious from the moment they began. Clarke isn’t actually in this to cheat – even though sometimes it very much feels like she is doing just that and she knows in the back of her mind that that’s exactly what it looks like – and she can’t afford to develop feelings. Lexa isn’t even looking for anything other than casual sex.

That’s what they are. Just two people having casual sex and if they start breaking the rules – which they kind of already are, right now – then Clarke doesn’t know what they are anymore.

“I should be going.” Clarke sets her mug on the nightstand on her side of the bed and doesn’t look to see Lexa nod absentmindedly, having contemplated the same things.

Clarke gets out of bed and doesn’t comment as she feels Lexa’s eyes follow her every movement while she gets dressed. Maybe today they can break their rules for a bit, both the spoken and unspoken ones, and next week they’ll be back to their usual arrangement.

Once fully dressed, Clarke enters the adjoining bathroom to brush her hair and wash her face and Lexa remains in the bed for a moment longer. But then she gets up too, intent on getting her dinner ready and then continue writing the third chapter of her newly-planned novel.

As she pulls on her jeans, she doesn’t hear the front door open and she doesn’t realize someone is inside her apartment until it is too late and Anya’s voice reaches her from the living room.

“Lex, are you home?”

She stands up in a panic, her bra hanging limply from her hand and her eyes meet Clarke’s, who just came from the bathroom and looks just as panicked.

“Lex?”

“What do we do?” Lexa whispers to Clarke, completely ignoring her sister.

“Say something, go to her. Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Clarke, I can’t go to her, I am half naked.”

“Well, then don’t be half naked.”

Lexa rolls her eyes at that, _very mature_. She quickly hooks her bra behind her back and pulls on the t-shirt Clarke throws at her. Still in panic she runs her fingers through her hair to comb out the tangles Clarke made, but Clarke is already ushering her out the door.

It closes behind her and she stands completely still, back against the door, frozen in her shock. Anya turns her head at the sound and looks at her little sister from where she’s rummaging through some bags in the kitchen and immediately cocks her eyebrow at Lexa’s appearance.

Neither of them speaks, they are completely silent and Lexa swallows hard as she feels Anya’s gaze scrutinizing her. But then Anya smirks and turns around completely to lean against the kitchen counter.

“I’m glad you’re having sex again.”

Lexa recoils in surprise. “I... What? No.” She can actually hear Clarke groan through the closed door that she’s still leaning against.

“Lexa, I’ve known you your whole life. I can tell you are having sex.”

“As if, Anya. I’m not having sex.”

“Your hastily thrown on shirt says otherwise. It’s inside out, by the way.”

Lexa quickly looks down at herself to see that her shirt is indeed inside out. She groans and bangs her head back against the door.

“Fine, I’m having sex. Happy?”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Happy.”

“I... Uh, well...” Lexa’s brows furrow as she contemplates the answer. She hadn’t really stopped to think of what her arrangement with Clarke had done for her mood and general state of being. She supposes that yes, she is happy. Or at least happier than she was a month ago. Not that she was unhappy, she was just... fine, living, whatever.

She doesn’t actually answer Anya’s question, but Anya’s smirk shows that she got her answer nonetheless.

“So, is this girl any good?” Anya asks casually, as she turns around again to continue taking out the groceries she had bought.

Lexa goes bright red at the question. “Anya.” She hisses in reprimand. At this, Anya turns around again, a questioning look on her face.

“What? It’s not like we’ve never talked about your sex life.”

Lexa’s face is still somewhat red and her eyes are wide and she’s opening and closing her mouth in an attempt to say something.

Yes, she has disclosed certain details about her sex life with Anya before and that’s not the problem. But she’s not going to gush about Clarke to her sister while Clarke is still in her bedroom, most likely listening to their conversation. She needs a way out, at least for now. She needs to figure out a way to get Anya from the kitchen, or even better, her apartment, so Clarke can leave without being seen.

“Oh.” Anya’s realization pierces Lexa’s thoughts. “Oh, she’s still here.” Anya is now sporting a fantastic grin that’s only getting bigger and brighter as Lexa tries to inch even closer to the door – which is pretty impossible since she is practically melted against it already.

“No?” Lexa tries and she once again hears Clarke groan inside her bedroom, followed by a muffled “oh for fuck’s sake” and then some shuffling.

Confused, Lexa turns her head to look at the door, as if she can look through it to see what Clarke is doing. But then the door opens and Lexa nearly falls backwards into bedroom if it wasn’t for Clarke reaching out and holding her up.

They stare at each other for a second too long – Lexa surprised to see that Clarke is actually leaving the apartment with Anya watching and Clarke smirking at Lexa’s wide eyes and red cheeks. _Adorable_.

“You are pretty goddamn useless, you know?” Lexa only furrows her brow in response. “Okay, I’m just going to do the walk of shame now. We’ll talk.”

She doesn’t even wait for a reply from Lexa, just turns around and marches out of the apartment without so much as a glance at Anya.

Lexa is left standing in the doorway of her bedroom, staring after Clarke dumbfounded.

And Anya? Anya just really wants to know the story about how this girl got her baby sister – her 28-year-old, self-proclaimed badass with a degree in literature, baby sister – so speechless.

//

Clarke had done quite a few walks of shame in her life, but never has she had to do it in front of her lover’s sister. And despite all the things in her life Clarke wasn’t sure of, she was sure she never, _ever_ , wanted to do that again.

They had known all along that meeting in Lexa’s apartment was risky and they had briefly discussed it twice that they needed to agree on a different place to meet, but those conversations were quickly postponed in favor of actually having sex.

Clarke knows now that they aren’t going to have anymore sex until they come to a decision on that particular topic. And she has spent the past two days thinking about nothing else, but it turns out that it’s not so easy to think of a place to have sex with your fuck buddy who no one but you and your friends should know about.

In times of stress, Clarke usually takes to painting and this time is no exception. So she wrecks her brain over this dilemma in her safe space: her gallery.

She bought it four years ago, as birthday present to herself for her 23rd birthday, with the money her father had left her after his death. She hadn’t touched her inheritance for five whole years, wanting to use the last thing she had of her father on something that she knew he would be proud of.

They had always shared a passion for art. He loved watching Clarke draw and often encouraged her to paint more, but in her teens she preferred drawing. Then after her father died when she was sixteen, she started to paint more, as a way to remember him.

When her inheritance was released to her at 18, she bought an easel – she still has it – and left the rest in her savings. But as the years passed by and she painted more and more, her apartment became too small to house the many canvases.

It had been in her mind for some time to open a gallery, where she could paint in private and showcase her art, but also to simply have a place to store it all. Then, the day before her 23rd birthday, she was on her way to do some last groceries and missed her stop at the subway because she got distracted by the boy sitting in front her.

He was drawing and she could see glimpses of it and it was gorgeous and Clarke couldn’t tear her eyes away.

She realized she had missed her stop when she was three stops further. Hurriedly, she got out, stumbled onto the street and as she tried to figure out exactly where she was, her eyes fell on an open office space.

Well, it used to be an office according to the stickers on the windows. Now it was empty and up for sale and the windows allowed her a clear view into the building. It was large, bright and she knew it was perfect.

So the next day she made some calls, decided not to flinch at whatever price they named, and bought the space. Two weeks later she was the proud owner of her own gallery and she knew she had spent her father’s money well.

Four years later, she still loves her own little place. It is hers, and a little bit her father’s, and she won’t ever leave if she has a say in it.

Deep in thought, she jumps a little when she hears the doorbell. Since she paints in a secluded backroom and naturally locks the door of the gallery when she is alone, she installed a doorbell in case her friends or family come to visit unexpectedly.

When she enters the gallery she immediately sees Alie Sherwood waving at her through the window, Clarke enthusiastically waves back. When she opens the door, Alie greets her with a bright smile.

“Hey Clarke, I’m not sure if you have any shows or anything planned in the next week, but I just wanted to let you know that the apartment above your gallery has become available and we’ll be starting viewings next week. So it’s just a heads up that it might get busy for a few days.”

“Oh, thanks. I had nothing planned, so it’s not a problem, really.”

“Alright then! Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” She laughs, motioning to the paint all over Clarke’s clothes and hands. Clarke thanks her again before closing the door and returning to her painting.

It isn’t until four hours later, when her back is sore and her eyes become tired and she decides it’s time to go home, that Clarke realizes what Alie came to notify her of. And it isn’t until she’s outside and sees the poster on the door that is the entrance to the apartment above her gallery, that Clarke realizes what that means.

The apartment above her gallery is opening up.

Lexa isn’t even the first thing that comes to mind – she is second though. No, this apartment could be perfect for the many times she stays way past midnight to paint or the weeks before a show when planning gets the best of her. And yes, this apartment could also be perfect for her meetings with Lexa.

She has to have this apartment.

 

Clarke wakes early, earlier than she usually does and immediately jumps out of bed and grabs her phone from the nightstand. She doesn’t even have to scroll through her contacts to find the number she’s looking for, Alie being the second person in her list.

Alie picks up on the third ring, the way she says her name letting Clarke know that’s she surprised by the phone call.

“Hey, I was just thinking about the apartment above my gallery opening up and I remember you said you would start the viewings next week, but do you already have like, a waiting list for people who are interested?”

“No, we don’t, we’re going to put the apartment on the website this afternoon, but I expect that after that the calls will be coming in pretty quickly. It’s a beautiful apartment.”

“In that case, could I ask a favor?”

“That depends on the favor, Clarke.” Alie chuckles.

Alie is the real estate agent that sold Clarke her gallery and when she found out that Clarke was planning on turning the space into a gallery she promised to come by when she was all settled in. Alie had been so impressed with Clarke’s work that she bought two paintings on the spot and commissioned her for a third and they have been in touch ever since.

“Could you not put the apartment on the website yet? Or maybe have me take a look before you’re supposed to put it up?”

“Are you saying you’re interested, Clarke?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Clarke can hear Alie hum as she thinks it over and Clarke is actually getting nervous. It’s not like her life depends on getting this apartment, but it would be nice and convenient and it’s been a while since Clarke has done something of this size for herself.

(Yes, she is not counting getting gloriously fucked once a week by maybe the hottest woman she has ever met.)

“I need to have it online by twelve o’clock, so if you can be there within the hour, I can have you take a look.”

“Really? Okay, yes! I can definitely be there within an hour; actually I can be there in half an hour.”

Alie laughs softly. “Half an hour then. See you soon, Clarke.”

 

Forty-five minutes later Clarke is standing in the middle of an empty living room, looking around the humble apartment. It isn’t large, in comparison it’s smaller than her current apartment, but that’s only because the bedroom and kitchen aren’t as big. And the size doesn’t even matter to Clarke, because it feels good. It’s perfect, just like her gallery had been perfect from the moment she stepped inside.

And the best part is that everything is in excellent condition. She doesn’t have to paint anything, she just needs furniture and the place is good to go.

“I’ll take it.”

“What?”

“Don’t put it online, I’ll take it.”

“I haven’t even told you the price yet.”

“I’m guessing it’s around what I paid for my gallery, maybe more, but that’s okay. I have the money. I want it.”

And that’s how, with the last of her father’s inheritance, Clarke buys the apartment above her gallery.

(Her intentions may be much less innocent than when she bought the gallery, but she’s sure her father would still be very happy for her.)

//

She tells Lexa first.

“I did a thing.”

“Clarke? I think you may have the wrong number.”

“No, Lexa, I definitely have the right number.”

“Okay. So what did you do?”

“I think it’s safe to assume that neither of us wants to be in a situation like last Friday ever again.” Lexa merely groans in response, still a little mortified. “That’s what I thought. So we need somewhere to meet, yes?”

“Yes. But Clarke, we said we’d discuss this, so perhaps this Friday we should discuss it before anything else.”

“No need.”

“What do you mean?”

“I own a gallery and two days ago I found out that the apartment above my gallery became available, so yesterday I went to see it and just three hours ago I signed the contract and now I own an apartment.”

Lexa is silent for the longest time and Clarke actually pulls her phone away from her ear to check if the call hasn’t disconnected, but the timer is still counting and Lexa is still there.

“Lexa?” She asks, just to be sure.

“You bought an apartment just so we could have sex without anyone potentially walking in on us?”

Thinking back, it does seem like that’s why she did it, but Clarke swears to God, it isn’t.

“So full of yourself. No, I didn’t just buy it for us, I also bought it for convenience and because it’s super cute.”

“You _bought_ an apartment?”

“Yes, I did. Do you need me to repeat it once more?”

“No, I’m sorry, Clarke. I’m just a little surprised, is all.”

“Yeah, honestly, me too. But anyway, I’m not sure if I can have it furnished by Friday, so maybe we need to risk going to yours one more time.”

“There is really no more risk now Anya knows, so I don’t see any problem with that.”

“Great! I’ll see you Friday then.”

“Clarke, before you go. There is something I would like to try this Friday, but I just wanted to run it by you first.”

Clarke gulps, now she is the one staying silent for much too long. It’s just that Clarke’s mind is going over a hundred scenarios of what Lexa could possibly want to try and she can’t really shake some of those images.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Her voice is deeper than it was before and she almost knows that Lexa can hear it and that she knows what that means.

“It’s okay. I just wanted to–”

“No!” Clarke interrupts her. “Don’t tell me, surprise me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. I mean, I’ll probably like it anyway and if I don’t, I’ll tell you then. Just surprise me.”

“Okay.”

“’Kay. Well... I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Friday.”

They stay silent for a moment longer and then Clarke ends the call, excited about Friday, like she always is. But there’s something else, some feeling in her stomach that she can’t quite place.

She’s noticed it before, when she would think of Lexa or briefly discuss her with Octavia and Raven, but she doesn’t know what it is or where it comes from.

And so she does what she has done so many times before: ignore the feeling.

//

Telling Finn isn’t as easy. The entire time during dinner Clarke is planning her words. She knows she shouldn’t tell him that the apartment will also be used for her meetings with Lexa, but Finn isn’t stupid and he’ll probably guess. Still, that doesn’t mean she should cite it as one of the reasons why she bought the apartment.

But that’s the thing; it is only one of the reasons. All the reasons are true too. She got the place because it’s convenient for her career as an artist. And she’s a grown woman, she can do with her money as she pleases.

She decides to tell him just before they’re finished with dinner, because knowing him he’ll be going to bed immediately after, stating he is tired after working late again.

“Finn, I need to tell you something.” She begins, rather tentatively, and he looks up from his plate with mild panic in his eyes.

He places his fork and knife on the table and takes a deep breath, as if preparing himself for bad news.

“The apartment above my gallery became available and I bought it.” At first he looks confused, like he was expecting her to say something completely different. Then her words sink in and Clarke can actually see the moment he understands.

“When?” One single word, that’s his only response.

“Today.”

“You just bought an apartment today? Without discussing it first? How long have you known about this?” His voice rises as he goes on, but he doesn’t yell. He never does.

“I only found out last Sunday and I didn’t discuss it because I don’t think I have to discuss what I do with my father’s money.”

He is silent for some time, Clarke can see the gears turning in his head and then he looks at her, levels her with a glare that’s so intense Clarke almost flinches.

“Did you do this because of... because of _him_?”

Clarke’s brows furrow, honestly unsure of what he’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that, Clarke. Don’t pretend you didn’t buy an apartment just so you can fuck some dude you don’t even know.”

She realizes a lot of things in that moment, wants to say so much, but she stays silent as she tries to decide on what to say first. She feels herself becoming angry.

She knows – has always known – that Finn doesn’t like her Friday-afternoon activities, but she had discussed it with him, didn’t execute her plan until he approved. He has always known about it, she has always been honest about it. Was, and still is, willing to share who she is sleeping with, but Finn has constantly made it extremely clear that he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to talk about it all and every time she brings it up, he shuts her out.

Lately they haven’t been talking much in general, so Clarke has given up on easing his worries all together.

When she proposed this idea she honestly believed that it was the best thing for the both of them. And it honestly could have been, if Finn hadn’t been working so much, hadn’t been so distant and so _cold_.

Some nights she wondered if he became like that because she decided she needed a fuck buddy, but then she remembers that the only reason she ever needed a fuck buddy is because he wouldn’t sleep with her anymore, because he was becoming cold.

Sure, there could have been a million other solutions to their problem, but Finn wasn’t bringing any to the table and Clarke and her sex-deprived mind really weren’t in any state to think of rational solutions.

She sighs, then takes deep breath, having recollected her thoughts and regained her calm.

“First of all, Finn, I primarily bought this apartment for myself, so I don’t have to go home in the middle of the night after I lost track of time while painting. Or so I have a place to stay when I am planning a show and will probably spend every hour of every day in my gallery preparing. That’s why I did it.”

She takes another breath, she has to, because she doesn’t want to yell.

“Second of all, I am not fucking some dude I don’t even know. In fact, if you had just once asked me about it, you would know I am not fucking a dude at all. _Her_ name is Lexa and I happen to know enough about her to feel safe and comfortable.”

And with that she stands from her chair and grabs her plate to take it to the kitchen. She takes her time to throw away her leftover food, considers washing her plate but ultimately decides to just dump in the sink.

Leaning against the counter, she takes another breath and while a part of her feels like she should be going back to Finn to talk to him and see if they can resolve this fight tonight, she really doesn’t want to. She hates going to bed angry, but this time she doesn’t have the energy or the will to settle things.

Determined she walks back to the part of the living room where the dinner table is set up, where Finn is still sitting silently in his chair. She looks at him, almost feels pity, but anger is the overshadowing emotion as she leans against the back of her chair and looks at him still.

“And then another thing,” she begins and waits for him to look up, “I get that you’re upset, but I wouldn’t have to be fucking her if you would just get over whatever the fuck is going on with you and fuck me.”

Without another word she leaves and goes to bed.

That night she doesn’t feel the bed dip with the weight of Finn’s body and she’s glad of it.

That night she dreams of Lexa and drinking tea in bed and that should have been her fifth warning sign.

//

The next day is Wednesday and she’s having her weekly lunch date with Octavia and Raven – last month they had to reschedule to Sunday because Octavia had an important meeting at work that Wednesday, but usually they meet every Wednesday.

“Clarke?” Octavia’s soft voice is laced with concern and Clarke looks up from where she was staring at a spot on the table. “Will you please tell us what’s wrong?”

They have known each other almost their entire lives and they understand each other’s personalities seamlessly. They can see when Clarke is distracted, but they can also differentiate between a good and bad distraction. It isn’t lost on them that this time, it’s bad.

“Finn and I fought last night.”

“What about?”

“What do you think?” The trio is silent for a moment then, because it’s obvious what the fight was about and neither Octavia nor Raven knows what to say. But it’s Clarke who breaks the silence again. “Sometimes I just wonder if it’s my fault. I mean, it has to be my fault right?”

“No, Clarke, it’s not your fault. He’s been distant, has been for months.”

“And I’ve been sleeping with someone else.”

“Well, yeah, you have but...” Octavia falls silent then, not entirely sure what to say to that.

“Look, Clarke, you may be sleeping with someone else, but he knows about it. You told him from the beginning and even gave him the chance to argue and disagree.” Raven offers.

“Yeah, and when he argued I convinced him to let me do this, I convinced him that this would help us.”

“First of all, Griff, I know for a fact that his arguments probably weren’t very strong.” Raven says and Clarke can’t help but smile, thankful that her friends know her so well. “Second of all, I’m pretty sure it actually could have, but you said he doesn’t even want to talk about it, so really, whose fault is it?”

“I said the same thing.”

“What?”

“That it could have helped us, but that he’s the one who won’t even talk anymore.”

“Clarke,” Octavia begins tentatively, “maybe you should begin considering if your relationship is still worth it.”

Both Raven and Clarke turn to Octavia with surprised eyes. She’s never been the one to suggest breaking off a relationship because there’s tension and fights; she’s always been all about fighting for something until there’s nothing left to fight for.

“I can’t just leave him because we’re not having sex anymore, O.”

“It’s not just about the sex anymore, Clarke. I’m beginning to think it never really was. He’d been distant even before you stopped having sex. And you know, even if it was just about the sex, I would say the same thing. You look miserable, Clarke.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“She doesn’t mean it like that and you know it.” Raven interjects. “And she’s right. You’re blaming yourself for something you had no control over. You’re miserable and in fact, the only times we’ve seen a glimpse of the Clarke we know and love was when you were telling us about your mysterious lady friend.”

Raven makes Clarke smile again and manages to bring the first image of Lexa to mind since Clarke woke up that morning, feeling sad and yes, miserable.

(The thought of Lexa makes her smile another smile, one that Raven and Octavia don’t miss and that is their first indication.)

“I did something, guys.” Clarke admits after a while.

“Oeh, is it dirty? Tell me all about it!” Raven leans in, eager to hear of Clarke’s stories and Octavia smiles, glad to see Clarke’s mood lightened a bit.

“No, it’s not dirty.” Clarke laughs. “I bought the apartment above my gallery. It became available last week and I signed the contract yesterday. That’s also what started the fight last night.”

Octavia and Raven are silent for a moment and that seems to be the general first response to Clarke’s seemingly big reveal. But then their expressions change and Clarke can see the exact moment they come to a certain conclusion – which seems to be the general second response.

“Clarke Griffin, did you buy a sex cave?”

“Oh my god, Raven, no, I did not buy a sex cave.” Clarke can’t help her laughter and in that moment she is extremely grateful for her two best friends.

“So you did not buy an apartment just to have hot sex? Because Clarke, if you did, then you would be my hero.” And just like that Raven makes her feel good about the exact same thing that had her feeling so down.

“I did not. Well, not completely at least. I bought it because it’s convenient.” Raven eyes her skeptically and then Clarke breaks out in a huge grin. “ _And_ to have hot uninterrupted sex.”


	4. and here with you i could spend my days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke invites Lexa to her new apartment (sex cave) and Lexa teaches Clarke a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I don't know where to begin. I'm sorry for this immense delay, but as I said, I am not one for scheduled updates. However, this is something even I hadn't intended. At first I got stuck with some writer's block and just as I was okay, the event-that-shall-not-be-named happened and I was heartbroken, guys. I had it rough for a few days. But we need Clexa to get us through this and that's why I present you with 6000 words of Clexa smut. Warning: mild bondage.
> 
> Secondly, it's unbeta'd. I have read most parts twice to sort out any errors, but I wanted to get this out to you guys before I go away for the weekend. So I might update it on Monday if necessary. 
> 
> And third, thank you to all the kind readers who have left comments. This one is for you. Enjoy and long live Heda.

After the initial somewhat shock of Clarke impulsively buying an apartment settles down, Octavia and Raven decided that Clarke needed furniture for her new place. Luckily, she still had something left over from her savings and Octavia and Raven both decided to get Clarke a housewarming gift, even though she wouldn’t really be living in the apartment.

So on Thursday, Raven and Clarke are decorating the apartment – Octavia has work. They bought a lot of furniture from the thrift shop, resulting in a wonderfully comfortable leather sofa, elegant coffee table and six lamps. The rest they got from furniture stores, but since nearly everything was a show model, Clarke received a generous discount on all her purchases.

Now the apartment is nearly good to go way before Clarke had anticipated and as she looks around the room, she’s considering having Lexa over tomorrow already.

“You’re seeing her tomorrow, right?” It’s like Raven can read her mind.

“Yeah.”

“Will you invite her here?”

“I’m thinking of it. I mean I have a bed.”

“Where did you even meet before?”

“At her place. That wasn’t really part of my plan, but we literally fell in bed the first time around and then it never came up again.”

Raven grins at her as she hands Clarke a mug of coffee and promptly sits down besides Clarke on the couch.

“So what is she like?”

Clarke turns to her confused.

“I’ve been telling you about her for weeks.”

“No, you’ve been telling me about the sex, which sounds wonderful, I’m happy for you. But what about her? What is _she_ like?”

Clarke stares into her coffee before answering, honestly thinking about the question.

She knows Lexa is a writer and occasionally teaches at a University not too far from her place, she knows that aside from writing them, Lexa loves to read books, but that’s a no-brainer.

She knows Lexa is kind at heart – the soft kisses to her body that Clarke has memorized by now are a sure sign of that. She knows Lexa is gentle and passionate and that her laughter is rare not because she has no sense of humor but because it is sophisticated.

But she doesn’t know her favorite color or the name of her first childhood pet, if she even had any. She knew Lexa has a sister, now she knows her name and her face. But that’s about it.

Clarke realizes that while it was always her intention to just sleep with Lexa, she wants to get to know her. She wants to know things about her mind and her heart, not just the way to navigate her body.

“I honestly don’t know too much about her. We agreed that would be for the best.”

“Would you want to? Know about her, I mean.”

Yes, she does. But can she be honest about that with Raven? Won’t saying it out loud mean that Lexa has more power than she should have?

“I guess.” Clarke shrugs, then gets up in an attempt to avoid discussing the topic further. She needs to think about this first.

Raven lets her, simply following Clarke into the kitchen where she leans against the counter with a smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“So, any sexy plans for tomorrow to… christen your new place?”

“I swear Raven, you are way too obsessed with my sex life.”

“Probably, but don’t try and change the subject.”

“I don’t have any plans, actually, but apparently Le- _she_ ,” Clarke quickly corrects when she realizes that Raven and Octavia don’t know her name and she wants to keep it that way, “wants to try something new.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“She wanted to tell me but I told her to surprise me, so I have no idea.”

“What if it turns out she’s super kinky?”

Clarke smirks at that, “You know I wouldn’t mind.”

//

That evening Clarke decides to text Lexa to let her know the address of the apartment, because calling her with Finn asleep in the bedroom may not be the best way to go.

Clarke and Finn have barely talked since their fight the other day, but Clarke can’t feel guilty anymore. Raven nearly beat it out of her. Instead, Clarke has decided to focus on Lexa.

**Clarke  
** [10:57 PM] Hey, just letting you know that the apartment is all set and we can meet there tomorrow.

**Lexa  
** [11:06 PM] It’s furnished already?

**Clarke**  
[11:07 PM] I have very efficient friends.   
[11:08 PM] It’s not much though, just the basics. But it has a bed, what more could we need?

**Lexa  
** [11:09 PM] I have found sometimes a bed isn’t even needed.

Clarke’s mouth goes dry at the implication and her mind flashes with all the places Lexa could take her on or against. Maybe Raven is going to be right, maybe Lexa has a kinky side to her that Clarke has yet to discover.

**Clarke  
** [11:13 PM] Do I need to soundproof my walls?

**Lexa  
** [11:15 PM] I don’t know, Clarke, do you?

**Clarke**  
[11:15 PM] Just be there at twelve.   
[11:16 PM] _Clarke shared a location._

Clarke puts her phone away, deciding not to wait for a reply and when she turns onto her back on the couch and tries to close her eyes, she thinks she’s fucked.

With her track record and the things previous lovers – and unfortunately neighbors – have told her, she should really consider soundproofing her walls.

With Lexa, so far she had been able to stifle the volume of her pleasure by biting down on her lip and her hands and once, even on Lexa’s pillow. But with each time they met, Lexa started to know her body better, working her up higher, holding her at the edge until she thought she’d never come again and then letting her fall harder than ever before.

Soon, Clarke won’t be able to keep still anymore.

//

When Clarke opens the door for Lexa she is met with slightly widened, enthusiastic eyes.

“The gallery downstairs is _yours_?”

"Yes." Clarke steps aside to let her in, but Lexa remains in the hallway, a small smile gracing her lips.

"Can I see?"

Clarke smirks, "I thought you were here to admire me, not my art?"

"Who says I can't do both?"

Lexa looks so… alive in this moment, so excited to see Clarke’s art and for a moment Clarke wonders if it is because the art is _hers_ or if Lexa is simply a huge fan of art. But she lets the thought go pretty quickly, because her unadulterated excitement looks beautiful on her and she’s positively glowing. And then Clarke looks her over, sees the motorcycle helmet hanging from her bag, the leather jacket and the leather pants that make her legs look so great and _God_ , Clarke has found that every day without Lexa makes her body crave her even more and right now she can’t stand waiting any longer.

“I say the art can wait.” She says, her voice husky with desperate lust. It makes Lexa blink and then look at her, really look at her, and her posture changes immediately.

Within the blink of an eye she crosses the threshold and steps into Clarke’s space, her hands coming up to cup Clarke’s cheeks as her body backs her against the nearest wall.

For a moment Clarke thinks she’s going to kiss her, for a moment Clarke thinks she’ll let her, but then she feels urgent lips on her throat as her head is pushed back, long fingers curling in her hair.

Clarke can’t help the moan that escapes her as Lexa sucks hard and the sound seems to shake Lexa from some kind of haze. She detaches her lips from Clarke’s skin, but doesn’t pull away and Clarke can feel her heavy breaths.

When Lexa does pull away she makes it a point to lock eyes with Clarke and with a soft smile, she apologizes, “Sorry, I-”

Clarke holds up a finger to silence her. “Okay,” her voice still deep with lust, her breath coming in pants, “I’m suggesting a new rule. No more apologies.”

Clarke’s head falls back against the wall as she tries to regain her breath. _And we haven’t even started yet_ , she thinks with a smile.

Lexa places a gentle kiss on the spot she just practically attacked as she kicks the door closed with one foot and whispers against Clarke’s skin, “No more apologies.”

They remain like that for some time and then Clarke remembers herself, pulling Lexa away from her neck with one hand in her brown curls.

“So you drive a motorcycle?”

“I do.” Lexa answers uncertainly, as if the admission might get her in trouble.

Clarke just smirks in response, “I think that’s fucking hot.”

“You think I’m fucking hot?”

Clarke whimpers softly and Lexa tilts her head at the sound, but before she can comment on it, Clarke replies. “Oh yeah, I think you’re fucking hot.” A pause and then, “Say it again.”

Lexa is clearly confused, “Say what again?”

“Fucking.”

Lexa is smirking now, catching on to what Clarke is, probably subconsciously, telling her.

“You want me to curse, Clarke?”  
  
“Just say it again, it was hot.”

“ _Fucking_ hot?”

“Fuck.”

Lexa laughs then, actually laughs. It’s soft and deep and Clarke likes the sound of it. It makes her smile, makes her heart swell with pride because she did that, _she_ made Lexa laugh.

(And had she not been too focused on Lexa, had she been able to properly think, that would have been her sixth warning sign.)

Suddenly Lexa steps back, giving Clarke space to move and air to breathe and she watches as Lexa observes the apartment.

She takes a hesitant step from the hallway into the living room and then drops her bag onto the old leather chair that matches the leather sofa as she looks around.

She turns to Clarke with a beautiful smile and says, “You were right. It is cute.”

Clarke smiles in return and then starts taking slow steps toward her. As she approaches, Lexa angles her body towards Clarke, waiting for her to step into her space.

Once she’s close enough, Clarke takes hold of the leather strap hanging from Lexa’s jacket. She lets her fingers play with it for a few seconds and then tugs, pulling Lexa closer to her.

They’re inches apart, their noses nearly touching and Lexa can’t help but look down at Clarke’s lips. Clarke can’t help it either, eyeing the way Lexa’s bottom lip pouts out, but then she takes a deep breath before recollecting herself and locking with Lexa’s green eyes again.

“Thank you, but I think you should stop talking and start showing me what you have in mind for me.” And just like that, she turns on her heels and marches into the bedroom.

Lexa is left staring after her, lips tingling from the remnants of feeling Clarke’s breath on them.

She shrugs out of her jacket and drapes it over the back of the leather chair, then unhooks her helmet from her bag before she hoists the bag over her shoulder and follows Clarke into the bedroom.

Clarke is already undressing, her shirt lying discarded on the floor and nimble fingers working on the button of her jeans. Lexa leans against the doorframe as she watches Clarke and Clarke slows her movements when she realizes Lexa’s eyes are on her.

Slowly she pushes her jeans down her legs, allowing Lexa a very generous view of her cleavage as she bends down. Clarke looks up to see Lexa’s jaws working; she can almost hear her teeth grinding against each other.

With her jeans gone, she stands up again, still eyeing Lexa as her hand disappears behind her back.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Clarke husks.

“I might.” Lexa challenges.

“Not a very exciting surprise then.” She expects a reply as she undoes the clasp of her bra, but Lexa remains silent and her eyes have long since left her face; now gazing at her chest as she patiently waits for Clarke to continue undressing.

When the bra has joined the shirt and jeans on the ground and Clarke reaches for the waistband of her panties, Lexa springs into action.

She moves to Clarke, swatting her hands away as she rests her own on Clarke’s hips.

“Leave those on.”

Clarke simply nods as Lexa’s thumbs draw slow circles on her abdomen, just above her panties. Then Lexa tilts her head toward the bed as she lets go of Clarke.

“On the bed.” Her tone is authoritative and leaves no room for discussion and it sends a shiver down Clarke’s spine. She gulps as she moves to sit down on the bed and Lexa’s eyes follow her every move.

As Clarke sits on the edge of the bed, expectantly staring up at Lexa, she shakes her head disapprovingly, small smirk on her lips.

“Lie down.” Her voice seems to get deeper every time she speaks and Clarke seems to get wetter as a result.

She lies down, always keeping eye contact and taunting Lexa as she props herself comfortably against the pillows. Lexa swallows hard as she watches Clarke’s breasts, her mouth falling open just slightly.

She takes a deep breath, then moves toward the bed, and leans over Clarke to drop her bag on the mattress. Clarke looks at it, feeling both nervous and excited, because whatever Lexa has planned for her, her bag is involved somehow.

Lexa moves onto mattress; first one knee touches Clarke’s thigh, then effortlessly she swings the other leg over her body and straddles Clarke.

There is something inexplicably erotic about the feeling of Lexa’s leather-clad legs straddling her naked body – and Clarke can’t help but reach out, ever so slightly, to touch Lexa’s knees – something intoxicating about the feeling of Lexa’s weight resting comfortably on her.

“I have to say,” Lexa’s voice pulls Clarke from her thoughts, “that I was worried at first.” She pauses to lightly run her fingers over Clarke’s stomach, tracing invisible patterns.

Clarke wants to ask her what she means, but her voice is lost in her throat.

Lexa looks up then, as if she heard Clarke’s question in her mind and continues drawing circles around Clarke’s bellybutton as they look at each other.

“When you said we could meet here.” She explains. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to execute my payback.”

Then her eyes leave Clarke’s and settle somewhere above her head and Clarke arches her back so she can look back and see what Lexa is looking at. The movement is enough to push their heated centers together and Lexa forcefully pushes Clarke back down with a growl.

Clarke looks back at Lexa with wide eyes, lips parted, breath already coming heavier as she begins to realize what Lexa is going to do.

Lexa smirks at Clarke’s expression. “I see my worries were misplaced.”

She removes her hands from Clarke’s body to grab her backpack. She pulls two long, dark red pieces of cloth from it and Clarke audibly gasps.

Lexa wraps the material around her hand, eyeing it nonchalantly, as if she isn’t about to tie Clarke up with them – as if she hasn’t imagined tying Clarke up with them for days now.

Unwrapping her hand and stretching the cloth between her hands, she looks at Clarke, looking for permission, but in the same look telling her that she once she gives it she will be submitting to Lexa completely. At least for the afternoon.

Clarke nods once, utterly aroused at the scenario Lexa is presenting her with. She can feel the wetness pooling between her legs and her mind is running a mile a minute as she imagines the things that are about to happen.

God, Raven was right. Lexa _is_ kinky.

In an instant Lexa is hovering over her and Clarke hadn’t even felt her grab her hands until her arms are resting beside her head and Lexa is already tying one of her hands to the metal bars of her bed’s headrest. When the other hand is tied as well, Lexa sits up on her knees and Clarke instantly tests her restraints. They’re tight, but not uncomfortable and the cloth is soft against her wrists.

Lexa is smirking as she looks down on a squirming Clarke.

“This, Clarke, will be an exercise in patience.” Lexa purposely clicks the ‘k’ in her name, because she has noticed its effect before and sure enough, Clarke’s hands tighten around her restraints and her jaw clenches as she swallows. Lexa smirks, her head tilted as she admires Clarke a moment longer.

Swiftly, Lexa stands from the bed, taking her backpack with her, which she drops on the ground near Clarke’s clothes. And then, under Clarke’s watchful eyes, she takes off her shirt.

Clarke watches entranced, still mesmerized whenever Lexa reveals her body. She has several scars all over her body, they’re not large or angry, they’re like her; small and delicate and Clarke wonders about the stories behind each of them.

But still, despite the scars, Lexa is probably the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. She has several tattoos too, which Clarke hasn’t spent too long staring at because she has always been so intent on delivering pleasure. But she has noticed them, the colorful swirl of flowers and trees spanning the left side of her back and parts of her side. The tribal on her right arm and like the scars, the tattoos are like her too; beautiful and intricate and Clarke wonders about those stories too.

“Seen enough?” Lexa’s voice breaks her staring and Clarke can’t even blush at being caught, because Lexa’s looking at her with her confident, cocky smile like she knows exactly what she does to Clarke.

Clarke just nods in response, hands still holding onto her restraints because they’re itching to touch.

“Good, then you can help me.”

Clarke perks up, almost childlike, as if she’s being told they’ll go to her favorite museum the next day. She watches as Lexa slowly moves her hands to the button of her pants and opens it.

“Should I keep this or on take it off?” Lexa’s toying with the zipper as she watches Clarke decide, but the decision isn’t hard. Clarke loves seeing Lexa in those pants, it’s something she could get very, very used to, but she wants to see Lexa in all her naked glory.

“Off.”

“You think I should take it off?” Clarke nods fervently and Lexa smiles. “Alright. I’ll keep it on then.”

Clarke actually whines, looking at Lexa with the saddest and most pleading expression she has ever seen, causing her to let out a soft laugh. But she doesn’t relent, instead moves her hands behind her back to the clasp of her bra.

“And this? On or off?”

Clarke knows how this game works now, obviously Lexa won’t give her what she wants, so it’s another easy decision. “On.”

“You want me to keep it on?” Clarke nods. “Are you sure?” Another nod. “Okay, I’ll leave it on then.”

Clarke whines again, her eyes closing as her head falls back against the pillow. She can’t believe she actually fell for that.

Seconds later Clarke feels the bed dip again and Lexa’s weight settles on top of her. Lexa starts drawing circles around Clarke’s bellybutton again, looking the blonde over and smirking at the desperate state she is already in.

Suddenly she leans down, her lips attaching to Clarke’s heated skin. Lexa starts a slow trail of wet kisses up Clarke’s body and Clarke is squirming beneath her within seconds.

When she reaches Clarke’s collarbone she sucks a kiss that will probably leave a mark, but she doesn’t care right now. She wants to mark her, she wants to leave something on her body, so Clarke won’t forget the effect Lexa has on her, even if it’s only for a few days.

Clarke moans when Lexa bites down a little harder than intended and tugs at her restraints, really wanting to grab hold of Lexa’s hair. But there’s no point to her struggle and Clarke has to admit that this loss of control, this command to surrender, is turning her on immensely.

Lexa’s lips leave Clarke’s collarbone and trail up her throat to her ear and Lexa purposely presses her torso flush to Clarke’s.

“I know what you want, Clarke.” She says her name in that special way, all tactics to drive Clarke crazy. “And I’ll give it to you if you behave.”

Clarke hums, unable to use words and Lexa smirks against her skin. Lexa starts nipping at her throat again, slowly descending and spending some extra time on that small bruise that’s already forming on Clarke’s collarbone.

Then Lexa sits up slightly and shifts, resting her right leg between both of Clarke’s and as she settles down again, pressing her entire body against Clarke, her thigh meets Clarke’s soaked panties.

Clarke lets out an appreciate sigh, thankful for the pressure, but Lexa doesn’t increase it and Clarke is already becoming restless with the need for more. But she understands the game Lexa wants to play and so she stays silent, instead tries to focus on the way Lexa is licking a kissing a slow trail to her breasts.

A very slow trail. Because Lexa is intent on taking her time and teaching Clarke to patiently wait for what she wants. And she’s enjoying the way Clarke tugs her at her restraints and angles her hips in search of friction, she’s enjoying the small sounds coming from Clarke’s parted lips when Lexa pays extra attention to just the right spots or isn’t going fast enough.

Lexa had been equal amounts of hesitant and excited when the image of tying Clarke up first came to her. She didn’t want to ruin this thing between them, not so soon, but fact is that the passion between them was never calm or collected.

Each time they had met was the same story: clothes being torn from their bodies and bodies being thrown on the bed. Lexa loves it and she knows Clarke loves it too.

But she still contemplated her little fantasies for far longer than she’d admit. Ultimately, the reminder of Clarke’s growl as she pulled on her hair and the way she demanded Lexa finished herself off, made the decision for her.

Lexa had quickly learned that despite their vastly different personalities, they also had many similarities and they were equals. Lexa intended their relationship to remain that way, so whatever Clarke could do, well, Lexa can do.

As she reaches the curve of Clarke’s breast she changes from kissing and licking to active sucking. Beneath her, Clarke is pushing her chest up in an attempt to get Lexa to relieve some of the tension on her nipples.

But Lexa doesn’t budge and the more Clarke struggles, the softer Lexa becomes, actually moving away to press sweet kisses on Clarke’s sternum, above her beating heart.

Clarke whines and Lexa bites her skin retaliation.

“Do you even know the meaning of patience, Clarke?”

Clarke doesn’t answer, just whines louder and Lexa moves up, their noses inches apart as she stares Clarke down. But Clarke’s eyes are closed, because Lexa’s thigh offered some delicious pressure to her aching clit for a fleeting second.

“Do you, Clarke?” Lexa demands and Clarke struggles to open her eyes and nod. “What does it mean then?”

“It means,” Clarke’s voice cracks with desire and she has to swallow to wet her dry throat, “it means I have to wait.”

“Exactly. It means _you_ wait while _I_ get to do whatever I want. And do you know what I want to do right now?”

Clarke shakes her head, “What?”

Lexa smirks, “I want to kiss every inch of your skin until you feel like your body is on fire. I want to kiss that bruise on your collarbone, I want to kiss the freckle on your left side, I want to kiss that spot on your inner thigh that has you either giggling or moaning.”

Lexa takes a moment to breathe and let her words sink in and Clarke needs a moment to process that Lexa already knows her body so well.

And then the words sink in and Clarke closes her eyes she shivers and gasps with the desire, images of Lexa doing all that flashing before her.

Before she realizes, she’s opening her mouth to respond, “So kiss me.”

Lexa is taken aback, her eyes instantly darting to Clarke’s parted lips, because she left those out, but she wants to kiss them too. And she’s not sure if Clarke is giving her permission now, if she’s allowed to break the one rule Clarke is dead set on.

And Clarke swallows hard in an effort to wash away those words, because even she hears the plea in them, hears the double meaning too and she’s not sure if she would mind if Lexa kisses her. Fuck, she knows she won’t mind if Lexa kisses her, she wants her to, almost needs her to.

The lines are blurring and they’re blurring fast and for a moment Clarke is afraid there’s no going back. Afraid the moment is ruined and Lexa will stutter an apology before untying her.

Clarke very much hopes she won’t, because she likes this Lexa. Dominant, with fire in her eyes and that sexy smirk because she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Then Lexa’s eyes are on hers again, burning with something new before she smirks. “I will. I can kiss you all day, Clarke, until you learn to wait and _ask_ for what you want.”

“All day?” Clarke challenges. She may be tied up, she may be in need of release, but she’s loving this power play.

“All. Day.”

“I’ve seen you bite your lip to keep from begging me to fuck you. You won’t last all day.”

Lexa smirks, leans impossibly closer and whispers, “The question isn’t whether I would last, it’s if you will. Because you see, when your gasping and moaning gets too much, I can just fuck myself. You seem to like that after all.”

Clarke gasps and then takes a deep breath as she continues to hold Lexa’s stare, because that’s all she can do now.

“Now, I’ll ask you again. If you want me to take care of this,” Lexa purposely grinds her thigh against Clarke’s center, feeling the wet heat even through the leather of pants, and Clarke moans when she does it again and hits her clit just right.

Even Lexa has to take a breath before she continues. “If you want me to take care you, what do you do?”

“I wait. I’ll behave.” Clarke breaths and Lexa rewards her with a few delicious thrusts as she suckles on her earlobe.

Clarke manages to hold back the first two thrusts, only a small sigh escaping on the third, but she moans on the fourth, her breath hitching in between and Lexa immediately stops.

Clarke tries to chase after Lexa’s thigh, her hips bucking up, but it doesn’t help and she falls back against the bed with a defeated growl.

“Patience.” Lexa whispers one final time before she returns to her previous spot on Clarke’s sternum and kisses it once more before moving down. She’s kissing Clarke’s ribs, pushed up due to her arms being tied above her and she nips wherever she can.

Clarke likes to believe she has learned her lesson, so she stays as quiet as possible. Her eyes tightly shut, her lips parted and only allowing small, broken breaths and short hums.

Lexa is satisfied enough, not wanting Clarke to be completely silent, because the loud way in which she enjoys Lexa is well on its way to becoming her biggest turn on. So she actively searches for Clarke’s sensitive spots, spends extra time there when she finds one and only moves on when Clarke is choking back her moans.

She can smell Clarke’s arousal as she moves further down, can see the wet spot on her black panties  - she fights the urge to run her tongue over it – and feels her own wetness dripping from her as she goes. Her own panties are probably in much the same state as Clarke’s and she should be worried about ruining her pants, but she can only focus on Clarke.

Soon Lexa is shifting again and she feels Clarke’s leg brush against her center as she lowers herself on Clarke. In that moment she finds the solution to saving her pants _and_ torturing Clarke even more. 

When she gets up from the bed, Clarke actually protests with a faint “no”, but all other remarks are quickly forgotten when she sees Lexa sliding her pants down her legs.

Soon enough, Lexa is back on the bed, taking her previous position with her legs on either side of Clarke’s right. Clarke watches Lexa her hands find her sides and her lips latch onto her pelvis bone.

As she kisses there, hoping to find another sensitive spot, she lowers her torso against Clarke’s leg and she knows Clarke can feel her nipples through her bra when there’s a soft groan coming from above her. Slowly she lowers the rest of her body until the wet fabric of her panties touches Clarke’s shin and Clarke actually gasps at the first tangible sign of Lexa’s own arousal.

“Oh God.” She breathes and Lexa smirks, purposely grinding against Clarke for her own pleasure.

“You’re evil.”

“And I can go all day.”

But soon, when she’s kissed allover Clarke’s abdomen and the inside of her thighs – _so close_ – Lexa takes pity on Clarke and she slides up her body again.

Without preamble she takes a straining nipple into her mouth and Clarke involuntarily jerks up, pushing her chest in Lexa’s face and tugging on her restraints to bury her hands in Lexa’s hair.

Lexa uses one hand to push Clarke back against the bed and the other to keep herself up as she runs her tongue over the nipple.

Clarke is fighting her moans again. Just as she got used to Lexa attacking her skin, she had to change tactics and now Clarke finally has part of what she wants, she can hardly keep quiet.

Lexa looks up to see Clarke’s lip stuck between her teeth, biting so hard she may break the skin. To test a theory, she sucks hard on Clarke’s nipple before swirling her tongue around and Clarke seems to bite down even harder.

She releases her nipple then, leaving kisses on her way to the other and whispering against Clarke’s skin in between.

“You can moan, Clarke. I like it when you moan for me.” She takes the previously neglected nipple in her mouth, instantly drawing a long overdue moan from Clarke and Lexa grinds against her thigh once to how just how much she likes it.

“Just no whining and demanding.” Clarke nods in response, but it goes unnoticed by Lexa who has her full attention on Clarke’s nipple.

Unconsciously, she starts a slow grind against Clarke’s thigh, alleviating some of the ache between her legs and successfully worsening the one between Clarke’s legs.

All too soon Lexa realizes what she’s doing, but instead of stopping, she increases the force behind her movements, rolls her hips a little more to grind her throbbing clit against Clarke’s thigh and grinding her own thigh against Clarke’s clit.

But when she notices the moans coming from above her increasing and Clarke’s hips rolling against her with purpose, she knows she has to stop, not yet ready to give Clarke what she wants.

Lexa gives one last thrust before stopping and shifting a little so her thigh isn’t pressed against Clarke’s pussy anymore.

Clarke nearly whines at the loss, but she has learned her lesson. She’s on fire, on the brink of exploding and she wants to either feel Lexa’s tongue on her or her fingers in her, so she stays quiet, breaths coming in short pants as she tries to focus on keeping her hips from bucking up in search of friction.

Even Lexa has to take a deep breath, but when she feels in control again, she moves up Clarke’s body to bring their faces together. For a moment she just looks at Clarke; eyes open, pupils dilated, lips parted and chest heaving with heavy breaths.

Once again, she fights to urge to kiss her. To run her thumbs over that bottom lip and then her tongue, before she pushes in to-

Shaking her head, Lexa clears her mind from those thoughts, reminding herself that she’s only making things worse. So she focuses on what Clarke wants instead.

“What do you want, Clarke?”

“You.” She breathes.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“I just came from there.” A moment passes, then, “What do you want?”

“I want your tongue on me or your fingers inside me. No, I want both, I want you.”

“Do you think you’ve been patient?” Lexa asks her, as if she’s asking a child whether they deserve a desert after dinner.

“Yes. Lexa, I’m going to explode, I need you, _please_.”

That’s when Lexa smirks again, having reached her goal.

“Say that again. Ask me for what you want.”

“Please fuck me, Lexa. Just make me come, I- _Please_.”

Lexa isn’t cruel, so she doesn’t linger on her way down Clarke’s body. She doesn’t tease as she hooks her fingers between the fabric of her panties and her burning skin; doesn’t waste time as she slides the material down long legs and dumps it on the ground.

Lexa doesn’t take too long admiring the way Clarke is dripping before her, open and ready. And when she has lowered herself down between Clarke’s legs, arms underneath her thighs and hands on her sides to keep her still, Lexa doesn’t hesitate to swipe her tongue over Clarke’s needy sex.

Clarke moans loud, finally getting what she has been waiting so long for.

It doesn’t take long, that’s how worked up she is. And after four full licks and some sucking on her clit, she can’t lie still anymore as her hips buck up and her walls uselessly clench around nothing.

She can feel her orgasm already building and she just needs a little more. “Lex, please.”

Without a word, Lexa moves her right arm from underneath Clarke’s leg and slides it up her body. For a moment Clarke thinks she’s in for more torture, but then she feels fingers against her lips and she happily takes them.

Lexa then trails her wet fingers down Clarke body and shifts a little to accommodate herself. And as the tip of her tongue presses against Clarke’s clit, she pushes two fingers in.

Clarke almost screams and comes right then and there, however she manages to hold on as she bites her lip again. But then Lexa starts thrusting in and out and Clarke’s meeting every thrust with her hips and combined with the wet pressure against her clit, she can’t hold back.

Her moans increase in volume, she’s panting Lexa’s name in between and her body is nearly arching of the bed, even Lexa’s hand on her stomach can’t hold her down anymore and then Lexa does that thing with her fingers inside her, touches that spot no one ever found before and Clarke is finally falling.

Lexa helps her ride out her orgasm, she vaguely feels the slow pumping of fingers and the slight pressure of a tongue on her clit whenever her hips push up, but for the most part Clarke is seeing stars and hearing her blood rushing in her ear. Her heart is pounding inside her chest and she feels completely at peace.

Then her senses come back to her, she stops chasing the aftershocks of her orgasm and Lexa immediately pulls her fingers out. But her tongue remains, gently licking away the evidence of Clarke’s orgasm.

And when Clarke can focus on something other than her own pleasure again, she feels Lexa’s wetness pressed against her shin once more and Clarke likes to thinks she always gives what she takes. And with Lexa, there’s not just the desire to fulfill her own pleasures; she is – much like Lexa herself – becoming addicted to the soft sounds of the other woman and the way her body responds and the way her lips part when something feels particularly good.

She wants to make Lexa come.

“Lexa.” She breathes, pushing her hips to get her attention, because she can’t really use her hands.

Lexa looks up, eyes wide, her lips swollen and glistening, curled into a satisfied smile.

(Clarke thinks, and she chalks this up to post-orgasmic bliss, but Clarke thinks she could fall in love with this girl. And that should have been her seventh warning sign.)

“You okay?” Lexa asks, sliding up Clarke’s body and Clarke nods, better than okay.

“Untie me.” She demands and Lexa’s eyes fill with concern, moving to sit up so she can release Clarke. “I want to make you come.” Clarke clarifies and Lexa instantly halts.

She looks down at Clarke from where she’s straddling her stomach, hands now lightly grasping Clarke’s forearms. Clarke tugs at the restraint as some sort of reminder of what Lexa is supposed to be doing, but then Lexa just smirks and Clarke groans.

“Please untie me so I can fuck you like you just fucked me.”

But Lexa just shakes her head. “I have a better idea.”

She scoots up Clarke’s body and Clarke gets the hint almost before Lexa has moved, nodding her head enthusiastically.

“God, I love your ideas.”

Lexa is hovering over Clarke’s face now and Clarke is so close, again, to what she wants, but this time Lexa’s panties are withholding her from her prize.

“Take ‘em off.” Clarke demands.

“You keep forgetting who’s in charge.”

“Do you really want to be holding your fucking panties aside so I can properly eat you out or do you wanna be holding onto this headrest like you know you’ll have to?” Clarke sasses and Lexa briefly contemplates just fucking herself in this position to make Clarke suffer. But then she watches Clarke’s tongue dart from between pink lips to wet them and she decides on making Clarke suffer some other time.

She quickly steps from the bed and takes off the pretty much ruined underwear before returning to the bed, to Clarke. She finds a comfortable position and after Clarke’s consenting nod, she lowers herself ever so slightly so Clarke has full access and room to breathe.

Like Clarke, Lexa is extremely close, but unlike Lexa, Clarke doesn’t waste time licking her up. She swipes one stroke over Lexa’s full length and then immediately thrust her tongue inside her clenching walls.

Lexa moans, both hands gripping the headrest for support as she rides Clarke’s tongue. Clarke is pushing in as deep and as hard as she can and the effort is quickly becoming too much for her to keep up.

She pulls out and focuses on sucking on Lexa’s clit for a moment in an attempt to rest her tongue, but then Lexa’s hand is pushing her back and Clarke watches as she starts rubbing small circles on her own clit.

With renewed vigor, Clarke goes back to fucking her with her tongue, spurred on by Lexa’s increasingly louder moans – which Clarke doesn’t miss, because she has been looking for a way to get Lexa louder and this might just be it.

She sets a rough pace and sees Lexa matching it on her clit. And then she feels the mattress shake with the trembling of Lexa’s legs before her entire body stills and she lets out a soft, long moan.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lexa remembers to pull herself up so Clarke can breathe, but then she remains unmoving for a moment longer; allowing her orgasm to travel through her body as she feels Clarke placing wet kisses on the insides of her thighs.

When she’s come back down, she immediately unties Clarke’s wrists and removes her own bra before falling down on the mattress next to Clarke, who’s already turning on her side to face her.

Lexa takes another moment to regain her breath before she turns her head to Clarke, smiling softly. “I hope that wasn’t too much?”

Clarke chuckles as she lets her fingers dance over Lexa’s collarbone. “Are you seriously apologizing right now?”

“Not apologizing. Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m better than okay. God, that was fantastic.”

They lay chuckling for a moment and then Clarke sighs dramatically. “My tongue is exhausted though.”

Lexa laughs, that real laugh that always makes Clarke smile and heart flutter. “Yeah, I think my lips are gonna be sore for another week.”

“So much for kissing me all day, huh?”

“I could still do that; a little pain has never held me back.”

“I think I will remember that information.” Clarke smirks and Lexa just grins as she turns her head to stare at the ceiling again.

“So.” Lexa begins.

“So?”

“If we get dressed now, can I see your gallery?”

“Now?”

“Yes, Clarke. You told me to admire you before I could admire the art. I’ve done that.”

“Yeah, well, you can admire me some more, because I am in no mood to walk downstairs now.”

Lexa sighs, but then concedes. “Okay, you’re right. Neither am I.”

“That’s what I thought. Besides, I’m in a different kind of mood.”

Lexa turns back to look at Clarke, not even surprised at her libido anymore. Still, she hadn’t expected Clarke to want to go for a second round. “I thought you were exhausted?”

“My tongue is exhausted.” She says as she climbs on top of Lexa, one leg in between hers and her pussy already pressing against Lexa’s thigh. “And I just kind of want to grind against your thigh.”

Lexa holds Clarke’s hips, aiding her in the rocking motion she has already begun.

“How... innocent.”

“You’re a little too cocky right now.” Clarke glares at Lexa, but Lexa simply shoots her a smirk and Clarke just rolls her eyes as she rolls her hips. “Just shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I constantly struggle with is how to write text messages. I have three different ways and I'm so conflicted. So maybe let me know if there's a way you prefer or if the way I did it here works.


	5. but i can't fight this anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa finally gets to admire some art and realizes the extent of her feelings, rules are broken and there's a surprise twist of fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again my apologies for the wait, but I am afraid you'll have to get used to it. I am still trying to keep the writing up, it's just become extremely busy at work. Still, I appreciate you all reading and commenting and the love I get for this keeps me going. Thank you all!

So it goes.

Lexa leaves that Friday afternoon slightly disappointed that Clarke won’t give her a tour of her gallery, stating she is tired – which Lexa knows isn’t just a lame excuse, because she is feeling a little tired herself. So she lets it go, demanding to see Clarke’s work some other time. She is well aware though that if she wants to see Clarke’s work, she’ll have to stop by some day other than Friday, because it’s clear they can’t keep their hands off each other when they have set their minds to it.

So on Monday, Lexa tries her luck and rides her motorcycle to Clarke’s gallery straight after work. But all the lights are off and it’s clear Clarke’s not there. As she drives home, she realizes that Clarke’s gallery is right in between her apartment and work, it’s just a different route than usual. And whether that’s convenient or possibly problematic is a matter Lexa decides not to focus on.

On Wednesday she tries again and this time the lights are on and through the window she sees people eyeing the paintings. She stops her motorcycle right in front of the gallery and takes off her helmet, still peeking through the window as she works up the courage to go inside.

It’s ridiculous that she would be nervous. She has seen Clarke naked so many times now, she shouldn’t be nervous about seeing her work.

As she takes a deep breath, she catches sight of Clarke. A beautiful, radiant Clarke, wearing simple light-blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Lexa watches as Clarke approaches an elderly couple looking at a painting and proceeds to excitedly talk about it.

Lexa is in awe.

She decides that the other people there will be enough of a reminder that they are supposed to be two strangers. Today Lexa is just a woman who loves art and happened to pass by Clarke’s gallery.

Another deep breath and Lexa gets off her bike and confidently marches inside the gallery.

Quickly looking around, she sees Clarke leaving the couple to approach two brunettes who look about her age and greet her like they’re friends. So Lexa decides against approaching Clarke. Besides, it would be weird for a random stranger to just walk up to her like that.

Instead she focuses on the art, which she came to see in the first place. (Except that she would’ve liked to hear Clarke’s husky voice explain each piece.)

Soon she is completely immersed in the abundance of colour in one piece and the elegant shadowing of another. Clarke’s talent is evident in everything Lexa takes in and suddenly she appreciates her fingers so much more. 

After a while of admiring – Lexa lost track of time – she somehow feels Clarke’s presence before she even says anything.

Lexa turns to her, eyes wide and filled with awe and she can’t even mind the sexy, proud smirk Clarke gives her.

“See something you like?” Clarke asks in a voice that sends shivers down Lexa’s spine and makes her wish they were alone so she can show her just how much she likes what she’s seeing.

But she simply nods and looks back at a black and white painting of a forest scene surrounded by the night sky. “This is incredible, Clarke.”

Clarke blushes, but Lexa doesn’t see it, too focused on the painting. “Thank you.”

A moment of silence falls between them and Clarke subtly looks around to make sure no one is within earshot. Still, she lowers her voice when she asks, “What are you doing here?”

Now Lexa turns to her again, her head tilted to the side in that way she does. “I said I wanted to see your art, Clarke.”

“Yeah, I know, but I didn’t think you’d actually stop by on a random day. I thought I would show you on Friday?”

Lexa smirks, “We both know that would probably go exactly like last Friday.”

Clarke laughs, short and sweet, and Lexa notices her eyes flash with the reminder of last Friday. But she also notices her looking around a little nervous and Lexa thinks that maybe she shouldn’t have infiltrated Clarke’s territory like this.

“Don’t worry, I’m just another person coming in to admire your art. I will finish my round and leave you to it.”

Clarke stares at her for what feels like hours and Lexa would give more than just a penny to know what she’s thinking now. But she remains silent, gives Clarke the time to collect her thoughts and then watches as those bright blue eyes rake over her body.

She grows extremely self-conscious in that moment and tries to cough away the blush she feels rising on her cheeks.

When their eyes lock again, Clarke smirks.

“There’s a coffee shop one block over. It will be crowded around this time. Bring me a caramel espresso; I will have the gallery empty when you come back.”

Lexa gulps, a million things she should say running through her mind. Like how she doesn’t appreciate being bossed around – but Clarke makes it so hot. Or how it’s Wednesday and their arrangement strictly stated once a week on Fridays – but she can’t say she didn’t think about having Clarke right then and there.

There are a million things she should say, instead she swallows and nods and whispers, “Okay.”

So in ten minutes Lexa continues her round through the gallery, staring at the art but seeing nothing but images of a naked Clarke. And then she feigns looking at the time and having somewhere to be, as if people are watching her, suspecting her.

She leaves the gallery, not looking back at Clarke and walks to the coffee shop, stalling time.

She gets hot chocolate for herself and Clarke’s caramel espresso, and as she walks back to the gallery, enjoying the late evening sun, she wastes one whole second on thinking of the absurdity and stupidity of her current predicament. But then she rounds the corner, watches Clarke wave the two brunettes she saw in the gallery goodbye and she smiles.

She honest to God smiles because she sees a pretty girl, hair framing her face, alight in the orange glow of the sun. She nearly drops the coffee, nearly turns and runs. Nearly. Because Clarke turns to look at her, smiles back at her and Lexa is compelled by some invisible force to always be closer to Clarke. She is drawn to her, itching to be near her and Lexa can’t fight any of it.

(Lexa is in way too deep and there is nothing she can do about it. And if you’d ask her, now or in twenty years, she wouldn’t have it any other way.)

And so it goes.

She fucks Clarke against the wall in a secluded corner of the gallery. Two fingers knuckle-deep inside, but her jeans still on, white shirt discarded some feet away from them, coffee forgotten.

 

Friday comes and nothing changes.

Lexa shows up at Clarke’s apartment, Clarke pulls her in by the straps of her leather jacket and all too playfully she teases it off Lexa’s shoulders then pulls it on herself.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle in my entire life.”

“I can take you someday.”

“You will?”

“Anywhere.”

Clarke looks at her wistfully, as if Lexa just gave her the greatest gift and Lexa just stares back at her, working her jaw as she fights to stop looking at her lips.

Lexa can no longer deny she wants to taste those lips, feel them against her own.

So instead she lets Clarke roam her lips on every other part of her body, lets her suck and lick and _kiss_ like Lexa wishes she would her lips.

 

Then Tuesday comes and Lexa receives a text from Clarke. She’s surprised at first, because they never text outside of practical information regarding their meetings. Dread fills her as she expects the message to be a cancellation.

She has come to look forward to Fridays, not just to the sex, but to seeing Clarke and in the darkest hours of the night, Lexa can even admit to herself that she misses Clarke every other day.

The message itself is as surprising as its arrival.

 **Clarke  
** [7:57 PM] I just finished a new painting, want to see?

 **Lexa  
** [7:59 PM] I’ll be there in ten.

 **Clarke  
** [8:00 PM] I’ll shower real quick.

 **Lexa  
** [8:00 PM] Don’t.

Clarke opens the door to the apartment wearing denim shorts and a paint splattered, black tank top. Her hair is in a messy bun, paint in her eyebrows, on her cheeks, arms and hands. Lexa’s heart soars.

“You’re a mess.”

“Painting is messy.”

“Do you need help cleaning up?”

“That would be nice.”

Lexa wordlessly crosses the threshold and follows Clarke into the bedroom, not at all surprised that Clarke never expected her to help with the actual cleaning up.

Clarke pulls two towels from a closet before moving into the bathroom and Lexa continues to watch as Clarke undresses and gets in the shower.

As Clarke adjusts the temperature, Lexa sheds her own clothes and steps behind Clarke. She takes a deep breath first, now noticing the subtle shift that has occurred in their dynamic. But she pushes it aside for the time being and presses her body against Clarke’s, already hard nipples pressing into her back.

Clarke straightens, taking in a sharp breath and moves to turn around in Lexa’s arms. But Lexa’s hands take firm hold of her hips and she leans in to whisper into Clarke’s ear, “Stay.”

It sends a shiver down Clarke’s spine.

For a moment they stand there underneath the water, Lexa’s hands keeping Clarke still and Clarke subtly leaning against Lexa’s firm presence behind her.

Their eyes are closed, they’re breathing hard already and it crosses both their minds that there are so many things wrong with what they’re doing, but it feels so right.

So Lexa focuses on that. On how good Clarke feels beneath her fingertips, beneath every part of her own body. And then she makes Clarke feel just as good. Touching in all the right places until she’s gasping and moaning, her head thrown back against Lexa’s shoulder.

Lexa likes to look at Clarke like this. With her eyes shut and mouth hanging open, her pleasure so evident. Lexa likes to look at her and there’s something building in her stomach that goes beyond lust and the exhilaration of turning Clarke into a panting masterpiece.

Something is building. And afterwards, when Lexa has washed Clarke’s hair and body and Clarke returned every favour, they fall in bed together. Just to relax a moment before Lexa makes her way home again, but somehow they fall asleep.

And when Lexa wakes in the middle of the night, she immediately notices Clarke’s hair tickling her chin, her arm flung over her stomach, their legs tangled together and Lexa can only smile. She nuzzles her nose into Clarke’s hair, breathes in her scent and without waking Clarke, she moves her arm around Clarke’s shoulders and presses her closer.

 

Something is breaking. And it’s Lexa’s resolve. And Clarke’s rules.

Clarke wasn’t surprised to find herself tangled with Lexa when she woke up. And when Lexa woke too, she hadn’t sent her away, instead she made her breakfast and they ate it together on the couch with the TV on.

They didn’t speak. Just sat and ate and when Lexa went to leave, Clarke walked her to the door. Lexa had felt like she was back in college; all soft blushes and sweet smiles after a first date. And that’s probably what made her lean in, what gave her the courage to press a kiss to Clarke’s cheek and then promptly turn around and leave.

That’s been two days and Lexa can’t forget. She can’t forget anything about Clarke and as time goes on she learns more and more about the blonde, but it’s never enough.

Something is breaking and Lexa knows it’s the promise she once made herself. After she was hurt one too many times.

 _Love is weakness_.

But she’s pretty sure she’s standing on the precipice of a great fall. A deep plunge that could leave her broken and bleeding when she lands, yet it seems so enticing, so welcoming.

Lexa is pretty sure she is falling in love with Clarke. She’s breaking rule 5 and she’s dying to talk to someone about it, but she’s not sure she can trust anyone with it.

She doesn’t know a lot of people to begin with. There’s only Anya, her only constant. At the University she has colleagues, some of whom she can have great conversations about literature and history and art with, but not about Clarke, and they’re not friends.

Maybe her only real friends are the few writers she met at conventions and often trades ideas with. They help her when she hits writer’s block and she helps them, but they can’t help her with this.

But she doesn’t have time to think about it more, because Anya is barging into her apartment like she owns the place. Without so much as a greeting, she marches to the kitchen and pulls two beers from the fridge, handing one to Lexa before she sits on the couch and makes herself comfortable.

Lexa isn’t even surprised; this is exactly like her sister. So she opens her beer, takes a big gulp, because she needs it, before turning back to Anya.

“How was work?”

“I finally got partnered up.”

Lexa raises an eyebrow, silently enquiring for Anya to continue.

“She’s young, needs to learn a lot, but I know she’s competent enough.”

Anya is a cop and about a year ago her partner died in the line of duty and Anya has been working with different people ever since.

She is a good cop, concerned with the safety of her people and her colleagues, and she won’t just accept any idiot as her partner. She’s sent many men crying from her precinct.

“That’s good, you’ll have a lot to teach her. Just maybe don’t scare her away.” Lexa smirks.

“She can handle herself. I’ve worked with her before.”

Lexa nods approvingly and then silence falls on them as they drink their beers. Lexa contemplates talking to Anya about Clarke, but the moment doesn’t feel right, so she leaves it be.

Anya knows something is off though, she has known Lexa her entire life. They are six years apart and Anya knows everything about her little sister. But she chooses not to comment on Lexa’s obvious peril.

“Anyway, the idiot is so excited about working with me she wants to go out for drinks to celebrate with her friends and we’re supposed to come along.”

“We?”

“Yes. She told me to bring my friends, but I told her I-”

“Don’t have any friends. So you’re dragging me.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Lexa frowns, because tomorrow is Friday and Friday is her day with Clarke.

“What time?”

“Around 10.”

She can make 10 work. She can go to Clarke, go home, shower and be on time to join Anya.

Anya watches Lexa think with a smirk, because she knows she sees Clarke every Friday and Lexa has twice before cancelled their dinner plans because she was still with Clarke.

“I can do 10. Where is it?”

“At Arkadia. Maybe you can bring lovergirl.”

“Anya.” Lexa chastises. She had wanted to share with Anya, but the comment completely turns her off from the idea. Maybe some other time.

“Hey, just a thought.” Anya holds her hands up in surrender and retreats to the kitchen with the empty beer bottles. She comes back out biting into an apple, staring at Lexa who’s gazing out the window, obviously in thought.

“I’m out, Lex.”

Lexa turns to her with a warm smile, her only goodbye and Anya nods as she walks away. “Come find me when you’re ready to talk.”

Lexa doesn’t even turn back to her, Anya doesn’t even wait for her to, but Lexa’s smile grows with the easy feeling of her sister’s understanding and support.

 

Clarke texts her after eleven, minutes before Lexa was about to put away her book and go to sleep. Her name on the display makes Lexa smile, but the message is what she dreaded last time.

 **Clarke**  
[11:12 PM] I hate to do this, but my best friend got a sick promotion at work and she wants to have a girl’s day out tomorrow to celebrate.   
[11:13 PM] I tried to reschedule for Saturday or something but it could only be tomorrow.   
[11:13 PM] I’m really sorry.

Lexa feels disappointment settle within her, but there’s also a spark of hope coming from the thought that maybe they can reschedule.

 **Lexa  
** [11:15 PM] Clarke, it’s okay. Your friends are important. Besides, I have somewhere to be in the evening myself.

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard as she deliberates to suggest if they reschedule, but she backs out when she sees the three dots indicating Clarke is typing.

 **Clarke**  
[11:15 PM] Thank you.   
[11:15 PM] Are you going on a date?

The question surprises Lexa, because she can’t interpret the tone and she’s not sure whether Clarke is amused or simply curious, or she dares hope, maybe even jealous.

 **Lexa  
** [11:16 PM] I don’t date, remember?

 **Clarke  
** [11:16 PM] Right, you said.

Lexa waits for more, but nothing else comes and she can practically feel the tension coming from her phone. So she decides to assuage the situation, even though that may not be necessary at all.

 **Lexa  
** [11:20 PM] Besides, I would never purposely plan anything, especially a date, on Friday.

The _read_ sign appears immediately and it calms some of Lexa’s nerves to know that Clarke has been staring at her phone too.

 **Clarke**  
[11:20 PM] Really now?   
[11:21 PM] And why’s that?

She can imagine Clarke’s smirk, the teasing glint in her eyes.

 **Lexa  
** [11:22 PM] Fridays are for you.

Clarke doesn’t reply. The three dots appear several times but are never followed by an actual message and after fifteen minutes of staring at the screen, Lexa falls asleep with her phone in hand.

The next morning there is still no message and Lexa constantly fights the urge to say something, take back her words or wish Clarke a good time. But she doesn’t, because that’s not what they do.

So she tries to focus on her novel, but the words don’t come. And then she tries to prepare her class for Monday, but the motivation isn’t there.

So she sits in her chair by the window, looking out over the city she loves and she tries to read a book, tries not to think about Clarke.

Somehow her blue eyes and blonde hair are always too present in Lexa’s mind and she constantly reminds herself that she’s not supposed to fall in love with Clarke. She doesn’t even want to be in love.

But it’s inevitable. Clarke is inevitable and no matter how often she tells herself that Clarke is off limits, she can’t help it. Can’t fight it.

She feels butterflies when she thinks about her. Smiles involuntarily when she remembers something. Clarke isn’t hers to love, but Lexa does so anyway.

By the time it’s 10 o’clock, Lexa is actually looking forward to go out with Anya and her new partner, because she is in need of alcohol. Something to drink away the memories of Clarke before she drowns them.

Lexa finds that once you admit feelings to yourself, they become so much more intense. Before, she could put Clarke out of her mind for a few days, but now there’s nothing else she can think about.

Anya is late, as she always is to social outings like these. She is as punctual as Lexa; on time is too late. But when it comes to things like this, she’s always late, not wanting to seem eager to be there.

She calls Lexa when she’s in front of her building just minutes before 10:30 and Lexa rolls her eyes, having been ready for forty-five minutes.

They walk to the bar, because it’s not far from Lexa’s apartment and they like the fresh air and exercise. No words are spoken, because somehow they’ve always been comfortable in silence and able to understand one another with simple looks.

They had an uncle until their teenage years, a broad man with a big beard but the kindest eyes Lexa had ever looked into. Gustus. He used to say that if Anya were a little younger or Lexa a little older, they could pass for twins. The sentiment had always comforted them.

 

When they reach the bar, Lexa takes a deep breath. She’s not a bar type of girl. She likes to have a drink now and then, but she’d rather do it at someone’s house and not in a crowded and too loud bar. But Anya pushes her through the door and she’s here now, so there’s no turning around and going back.

Anya immediately sets off in the direction of a booth in the right corner and Lexa simply follows. As they get closer, Lexa thinks she recognizes the two girls happily chatting; both long-haired brunettes with easy smiles. But Lexa can’t really make out their features from the distance and in this light.

Then Anya steps right in front of the booth and both girls look up at her. Lexa keeps a small distance as she hears her sister greet one of them with a simple “Blake.” And  “Blake” stands up with a wide grin to shake Anya’s hand.

Lexa watches the exchange, sees the younger girl’s fingers clearly pressing into her sister’s hand and Lexa doesn’t miss the nearly invisible smirk Anya sports.

Blake lets go and gestures to the still seated girl. “Anya, this is my best friend, Raven Reyes.”

Anya nods, Raven Reyes does too and then Anya turns to Lexa. “This is my sister, Lexa. Lexa, my partner Octavia Blake and a Raven Reyes.”

Everyone politely nods at each other, Lexa thinks she sees Raven roll her eyes, but it’s too dark to be sure, and then they’re all sitting; Lexa and Anya on either end of the half-circle booth with Octavia and Raven in the middle. Anya looking around, taking in her surroundings, observing the crowd.

She once explained to Lexa that you’re not just a cop when you’re on duty. Once you finish the academy and get your badge, you’re a cop twenty-four/seven. Lexa can appreciate that sentiment.

“I thought there was supposed to be two?” Anya asks when she turns back to Octavia. But it’s Raven who answers,

“The other one is getting us tequila.”

“Tequila already?” Lexa questions. “It’s not even eleven.”

Raven smirks, “Yeah, but she has somewhere she’d rather be, so she wants to be drunk as soon as possible.”

Lexa purses her lips as she nods, because she can definitely appreciate that sentiment too.

It becomes clear very quickly that Octavia and Raven are talkative, unlike Anya and Lexa. So Raven immediately draws Lexa into a conversation and Lexa, being the polite human being she is, angles her body to face Raven. An open posture to indicate interest.

As a result, she has her back turned to the crowd and she doesn’t notice someone joining them until a tray is placed on the table.

“Sorry it took so long. I got started without you.” And there’s a voice Lexa could hear and recognize even in chaos. It sends shivers down her spine and her eyes grow wide at the impossibility of it all.

Luckily Raven is already looking at Clarke and doesn’t notice her shock. Another breath and Lexa dares to turn around, hoping no one noticed her hesitance.

When their eyes meet, Clarke’s mouth falls open just a fraction of a second. But then she instantly recovers and Lexa is pretty sure that if she wasn’t so tuned in to everything Clarke Griffin, she wouldn’t even have noticed.

Octavia breaks the silence, though Lexa wonders how long it actually lasted. It feels like minutes, but she’s pretty sure it’s been only seconds.

“Clarke! Bringer of alcohol, meet my new partner, Anya and her sister Lexa.”

Clarke shakes Anya’s hand first, smiles that kind and warm smiles that Lexa has fallen in love with, convincingly pretending she has never seen Anya before – Anya is playing along fantastically as well – and then turns to face Lexa again.

Clearly, Clarke is handling this surprise much better than Lexa is, because she’s smirking now, that familiar glint in her eyes. She holds out her hand, Lexa shakes it and there are sparks making her hand tingle.

Clarke withdraws her hand, then distributes the tequila shots to each of them. Lexa last and she purposely holds her stare, Lexa swallows hard.

Then she nudges Anya’s shoulder and Anya is looking at her with a look Lexa recognizes as “ _how dare you?_ ” but when Clarke simply says “Scooch,” Anya actually complies.

There’s another second of staring at each other before Clarke grabs her own shot and takes the salt, pouring some on everyone’s hand.

They all down their shots, reeling in the aftermath of the taste, before Anya turns to Clarke, mischievous smirk plastered on her face.

“So. Raven tells us you’d rather be somewhere else. Not a fan of night’s out?”

Clarke turns to her with a smirk of her own, “Oh no, I love going out, I’ve simply become used to spending my Friday’s differently.” She turns to Lexa then, smirk replaced with a smile. “Don’t worry, though, I’m feeling much better now.”

They fall into easy conversation about Anya and Octavia’s partnership as they sip the beers Clarke brought along with the tequila. And Lexa thinks this night will probably go down pretty well. She’s actually able to focus on the conversation and not staring at Clarke constantly and if she can keep that up, she’s sure it’ll be fine.

When their beers are empty, Anya offers to buy the next round. Clarke stands up, letting her slip out of the booth and when she sits down again, Lexa can feel her foot brush against her leg. She’s pretty sure it’s just coincidence though, but then it happens again as Clarke leans her elbow on the table and rests her head against her hand, looking at Lexa.

“So Lexa, we know Anya is a cop, but what do you do?”

Lexa furrows her eyebrows as she tilts her head to the side, trying to figure out what game she is playing, but when she looks at Octavia and Raven she sees the same curious expression and decides that Clarke is just nailing the part of curious stranger trying to get to know her.

“I write and teach part time.”

“Oh, what grade?”

“Freshman.”

“What school?” Octavia asks.

Lexa turns to her with a proud smile, “Polaris University.”

And Raven nearly chokes on her drink. “How old _are_ you?” She nearly exclaims and Lexa works her jaw for a moment, taken aback and frankly feeling a little insulted.

“28.”

“You’re a university professor at 28?”

“Part time, yes. It’s not so odd.”

Raven scoffs, “Lady, I am 28, a certified genius who went to school until 26, just for fun, and I only ever had boring, old professors one step away from death.”

Clarke and Octavia laugh, but Lexa doesn’t seem to understand the joke.

“All I’m saying is that I would have killed to have a professor who looked like you for a change.”

“Thank you. I guess.”

Lexa then turns to Clarke, a little unsure and hoping to receive some confirmation that she’s doing okay, but Clarke is looking at Raven with a look that Lexa can’t quite place.

It’s over before Lexa can ponder over it, because Clarke has turned back to her, smiling again and Octavia is asking her another question.

“So what do you teach?”

“Linguistics and literature.”

“And what do you write?” Raven asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a grin. “Anything steamy?”

“Are you asking me if I write porn?”

“I was going to go with erotic literature, but yeah, basically.”

“I mainly write drama and romance, so naturally things can get... steamy, as you said, but that’s not the main focus of my novels.”

“Have you been published?” Octavia asks.

“Yes, three novels.”

Lexa watches Octavia think for a while, before she seems to draw a conclusion. “Do you write under a penname? I mean, my brother has probably read every book that’s been published in the last five years and I don’t remember a Lexa Woods being on our shelves.”

“I do write under a penname, but unless your brother is into gay literature, I don’t think he has read my novels.”

It’s then that Anya comes back with five more shots of tequila and beers. She places the tequila in front of Lexa with a grin.

“No, Anya, no more tequila.” Lexa protests.

“What’s the matter? Not a fan of tequila?” Clarke challenges.

“Not a fan of losing my self-control.”

Lexa feels a bit of pride as she watches Clarke swallow hard.

 

When they’re on their fourth beer and everyone minus Lexa has downed their third shot of tequila and they can all feel their minds become clouded by the alcohol, Raven suddenly falls over the table with a finger pointed in Clarke’s direction.

“Y’know, Griffin, I am proud of you!” She nearly exclaims.

Clarke looks understandably confused, “Why?”

“Because. You have not once complained about fuckboy Finn all night!”

“And that makes you proud?”

“Yes! Because it tells me that you are pretty much over him.”

“Okay, Raven, thank you.” She starts to look a little panicked, her eyes purposely looking anywhere but at Lexa’s staring at her.

“And you know what more?”

“No, Raven, I don’t, but I get it, you’re proud, thank you.”

“No, Clarke, you need to hear this. Octavia thinks this too.” Raven looks to Octavia for confirmation, who is nodding enthusiastically.

“We are proud because you ditched fuckboy Finn and you got a sex cave!”

Lexa can’t help a short laugh escaping her lips and Anya is smirking as well, but Clarke is just trying to bury her face in her hands.

“Raven, we have company, please.”

“They can know I am proud of you.”

“Okay.” Clarke sighs and moves to get up. “I am going to the bathroom and when I get back there’s no more talking about this.”

As Clarke walks away, Lexa downs her beer and nods her head in the general direction of the bathrooms, purposely avoiding Anya’s gaze as she gets up. “I’m going too.”

In the bathroom she finds Clarke at the sink splashing water in her face and Lexa leans against the wall, hands in her pockets.

“So they call it a sex cave?”

Clarke grunts, “Unfortunately.”

“Well, it is essentially a sex cave.”

“I do more than just have sex with you there.”

“Really?” Lexa asks, as she pushes herself off the wall and walks closer the Clarke, who is now facing her.

“Really.” Clarke swallows. There’s a moment of intense silence as they stare at each other and Lexa can’t help but let her eyes drop to Clarke’s lips once, maybe twice.

“Is this you losing your self-control?” Clarke whispers wistfully, her hand reaching out to pull at the hem of Lexa’s shirt.

Lexa watches her do it as she swallows, wishing she could, but knowing she can’t.

“No.” She whispers. “No, it isn’t.”

Clarke nods and Lexa thinks that maybe Clarke understands what she’s fighting. They keep staring and then Lexa can feel Clarke’s cold hands slipping beneath her shirt and raking over the hot skin of her back. She shivers.

“Come back with me tonight?”

“We’re nearly drunk.”

“So? I want you. It’s not the alcohol; you know I want you sober too.”

Lexa swallows, doesn’t answer, because there’s not a doubt in her mind she’ll go anywhere Clarke asks her to.

Clarke smiles and leans in, Lexa can feel her breath against her ear and then wet lips nipping at her earlobe.

“Lose control.” Clarke whispers, before she pulls back and promptly leaves the bathroom.

Lexa has to splash some water in her own face before she finds the strength to go back.

 

The night progresses uneventfully and Lexa notices that Clarke is downing her beers a lot slower than at the beginning of the evening. When their eyes catch, Lexa can almost hear her voice in her head, assuring her she’s sober enough.

Around 3 AM – much later than Anya had wanted to stay – they collectively decide to go home. Anya, Raven and Octavia share a cab, since they live in the same area. So Lexa and Clarke walk home together.

The walk is short and silent, their fingers brushing several times before Lexa gathers the courage to just grab Clarke’s hand and entwine their fingers.

As they walk, she decides not to focus on how good it feels.

When they reach Clarke’s apartment, Lexa’s lips immediately latch onto Clarke’s neck and Clarke moans as she works on removing their clothes while simultaneously walking them to the bedroom.

They fall onto the mattress in a messy tangle of limbs. Lexa tries to move her hand down Clarke’s body so she can cup her already dripping sex, but as her fingers skim the sensitive skin of Clarke’s side, Clarke jerks and her thigh brushes Lexa’s clit, making her moan.

She quickly refocuses though, nimble fingers playing with Clarke’s clit and Clarke jerks again, eliciting the same response from Lexa who grinds down against her thigh again, chasing the feeling.

With the alcohol still in her system, Lexa can’t focus and Clarke grabs the hand still between her legs, placing it on her hips.

“Let’s just,” she begins, as she cups her own hands around the cheeks of Lexa’s ass and helps her grind against her thigh, Lexa’s thigh grinding against her own clit, “Yeah.”

So they hold on to each other, grinding against each other in desperate search of release. Their shared moans and content sighs filling the room.

And Lexa has the control to keep her head down, kissing Clarke’s neck in lieu of her beer and tequila flavoured lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't porn, this is erotic literature. Let me know what you think and if there's anything - besides that desired kiss ;) - you want to see. (I am expecting a lot of smutty suggestions, guys!)


	6. so what are we even waiting for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who cares about rules? Not Clarke. Okay, maybe she does and that is exactly the problem. They have rules for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [letsbefwb](http://archiveofourown.org/users/letsbefwb) and my idiot friend Jay for helping me work out some kinks, ;-)
> 
> Happy Sinday, guys!

Once rules have been broken, it’s hard to go back. So when they wake up Saturday morning, tangled like they were Wednesday morning, neither says a word.

They simply share a look before Lexa gets out of bed and stalks into the living room, not bothering to put on clothes – Clarke stares.

The time it takes for Lexa to make coffee for them she uses to contemplate the night before – and to overthink what Clarke meant by saying “lose control”. She ponders over it as she stirs the sugar through her cup and stares blankly into the living room.

“Lexa!” Clarke’s voice breaks her from her thoughts and she can’t help but smile. “I know for a fact it doesn’t take ten minutes to make coffee. Get back here!”

So Lexa grabs both cups and slowly makes her way back to the bedroom, where Clarke is sitting up against the headrest, not so patiently waiting for her coffee.

“I don’t remember you being grumpy in the morning.” Lexa says as she hands Clarke a cup.

“I am when I was drinking the night before.”

“Right, so I’m meeting hung-over Clarke now?”

Clarke glares at her over the brim of her cup.

“I’m not hung-over.” Lexa raises a sceptical eyebrow as she gets back in bed. “Just annoyed to be awake already.”

And Lexa smirks into her cup. “I can make that worth your while.”

Clarke looks at her, lets her eyes roam over Lexa’s exposed torso and then lets her head fall back against the headrest with a groan. “Coffee first.”

Lexa just laughs, but they finish their coffee in silence. Clarke downs it much quicker than Lexa does, so when Clarke lies back down, Lexa keeps watching her from where she’s still sitting against the headrest.

“Your friends are interesting.”

Clarke groans again. “My friends are embarrassing.”

“Were you embarrassed?”

“Imagine you didn’t know me. How would it sound to you if my best friend exclaims how proud she is of me because I bought a sex cave?”

“I thought it wasn’t a sex cave?”

“That is beside the point.”

“It is exactly the point.”

“No, it’s too early for this.”

“It’s one in the afternoon, Clarke.”

The silence returns as Lexa lies down again as well and they lie there, simply staring up at the ceiling.

“What are the odds though?” Clarke mumbles.

“What?”

“Anya and Octavia.”

“Oh, yeah. They even knew each other before we did.”

“That just makes it even weirder.”

Lexa turns to Clarke then, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her lips quirk up in a barely there smirk. “Maybe it’s fate.”

Clarke snorts in response, making Lexa smile – but Clarke just misses it when she closes her eyes to laugh. She looks back at Lexa, smile long gone, but smirk still in place.

“Oh please, talk about that all you want with your writer friends, but not with me. I don’t believe in fate.”

“Spend a little time with me and you will.”

Clarke rolls over then, leaning on her elbows as she stares down at Lexa, her eyes taking in every inch of visible skin. Her hand instinctively reaches for Lexa’s collarbone, tracing the outline for a mesmerized moment. Then Clarke smirks and moves again to straddle Lexa, the sheets falling around her hips, baring even more skin.

“When I spend time with you I’d much rather not talk too much. There’s other things I have found your mouth is excellent at.”

Lexa’s hands move to grip Clarke’s thighs, fingers massaging the skin as Clarke starts a slow rocking motion.

“Care for a demonstration then?”

“I do believe you said you’d make being awake worth my while.”

“That I did.” With a smirk, Lexa flips them over far more easily than Clarke had expected she would.

Clarke relaxes against the mattress as Lexa slides down her body and opens her legs with her hands. She runs a single finger through Clarke’s folds, already gathering wetness and smiles up at Clarke before taking that finger in her mouth and sucking it clean.

“Good morning, Clarke Griffin.” Lexa smirks and Clarke laughs as Lexa dives in.

She is gentle at first, building up Clarke’s arousal with languid licks through her lips and short nips at her clit. She’s done this enough times now to know what Clarke wants and likes.

It doesn’t take long for Clarke to grow restless, whimpering her pleasure and unable to keep her legs still. So Lexa decides to change tactics and pushes her tongue deep inside Clarke, revelling in the long moan it draws from her.

She thrusts in and out for a while before Clarke starts bucking her hips, in frantic search of more pleasure.

“Lexa,” she moans her name, clearly wanting to say more, but the words get stuck in her throat. Instead, she fists her hand in Lexa’s hair and pushes her closer, guiding Lexa as she rides her face.

Soon her breathing grows more erratic, her moans shorter and louder and after a few more thrusts of Lexa’s tongue inside her, she feels her orgasm travel through her entire body, letting out a long, content sigh.

Lexa brings her down from her orgasm and then crawls up Clarke’s body, watching as she recovers.

“So, was that worth being awake?”

“Yeah.” Clarke smiles.

“Did you know that orgasms also help against headaches?”

“I’m not hung over, Lexa.”

“Well, if you ever are...” Lexa smirks and Clarke opens one eye to peek at her. When she sees the look on Lexa’s face, she closes it again with a laugh and Lexa can’t help but smile.

She knows she shouldn’t do this. Knows she shouldn’t stay in bed with Clarke like this and make jokes. It’s too easy, too comfortable.

Lexa checks the clock on Clarke’s bedside table and sees it’s nearing two. She should go, get groceries, clean her house, prepare that Monday class. She should be anywhere but comfortably in bed with Clarke.

So she kisses that freckle between Clarke’s breasts almost regretfully and looks up when she feels Clarke looking down. “I should go.”

“Got somewhere to be?”

“Lots of things to do.”

Clarke nods. She has a life to get back to herself. An actual home, a boyfriend. “Okay then.”

Lexa nods too, but doesn’t make a move to get up.

“What do you do on Wednesday?” She asks.

“I always open the gallery for visitors on Wednesday. Why?”

“The weather is supposed to be great; I could take you for a ride on my bike.”

Clarke seems to think it over and Lexa thinks she’s going to decline, but then Clarke smiles and when she enthusiastically nods, Lexa smiles as well.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Wednesday then.”

“Wednesday.” Clarke agrees.

Still, Lexa remains comfortably leaning over Clarke. They’re staring again and Lexa thinks that maybe they’re both waiting for each other to initiate a kiss. But Lexa knows she won’t do it. It’s not her place.

So she swallows and nods again and finally finds the strength to get up. She dresses in silence, feeling Clarke’s eyes watching her and before she leaves, she turns back around. Watching Clarke naked on the bed, her hair messy, her head tilted and teeth nibbling the finger between her lips.

Lexa sighs, feeling a pang in her chest. She wants this girl, she knows she does.

“Wednesday.” She whispers, clinging to the next time she knows she can have her.

“Wednesday.” Clarke assures.

 

Lexa ends up having to cancel Wednesday.

When the other professors at Polaris University found out that Lexa was well liked by her students and the heads of the Literature and Linguistics departments decided that a young counsellor might help the students to open up about any problems they were facing, they decided to ask Lexa.

Now Lexa has always cared deeply for people, she feels a certain responsibility to them and her students are very dear to her, so of course she couldn’t decline. She did insist that she would be counselling only part time, like her teaching, being a writer first.

Being a part time student counsellor means that students often e-mail her that they want to talk the day before. Unfortunately you can’t schedule an identity crisis.

So Lexa ends up having to cancel her Wednesday with Clarke because of a student in need of a listening ear. She’s not even mad about it, her students’ well-being having priority.

Counselling does leave her exhausted, so when she’s done with her talk and sees it’s 4:30, she decides to get a quick cup of coffee before going home.

When she comes back to her office, she sees it’s not as empty as when she left only five minutes ago. Sitting in her chair is a smirking blonde that makes her heart stop.

“What kind of part time professor slash student counsellor gets her own office?”

“Clarke.” Is all Lexa can say, still not over the shock that Clarke somehow found her office.

“Me? I’m pretty sure I’m not a part time professor with an office.”

Lexa shakes her head, trying to recollect her thoughts. “What are you doing here, Clarke?”

Clarke still smirks, “You cancelled on me for noble reasons, but I was looking very forward to today. So,” she says as she gets up from the chair and walks around the desk, purposely tracing her finger along the edge of the wood, “I decided to stop by and see if people are looking after you too.”

She looks over Lexa, dressed in a white blouse tucked neatly inside black slacks and Clarke works her jaw as her eyes fill with lust.

“Do you always dress so dapper to school, professor?” Clarke asks and Lexa nearly drops her plastic coffee cup as she takes a deep breath.

“Clarke, I swear to Go-”

“Lexa,” Clarke cuts her off as she steps into her space and takes the cup from Lexa’s trembling hand. She places it on a bookshelf, then walks around Lexa to close and lock the door and then she’s pressing herself against Lexa’s back, breath ticking her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Lexa shudders against her and Clarke turns her around before walking her backwards until she hits the desk.

Lexa is staring at Clarke wide-eyed, she can’t believe this is really happening, but Clarke is really undoing the button of her slacks and drawing down the zipper and Lexa’s breath hitches.

Clarke pulls Lexa’s blouse from the slacks, but doesn’t make a move to take it off for which Lexa is both thankful and annoyed, because this office tryst is surely going to ruin her favourite blouse.

“Clarke,” Lexa tries once more to stall, to suggest waiting and taking this someplace more private, but then Clarke’s hand is cupping her cunt and Lexa’s eyes fall closed at the contact.

“I like the way this looks on you.” Clarke whispers. “God, you would be so hot in a full suit.”

And Lexa moans, both at the words and the feeling of Clarke pressing her thumb against her throbbing clit.

Clarke runs her fingers through wet folds a few times, rolling small circles against Lexa’s clit. When she feels Lexa is wet enough, she leans in, whispering in Lexa’s ear, “Try to be quiet now, okay?”

Through the haze Lexa manages to nod, but when Clarke promptly pushes two fingers inside, Lexa can’t help her moan.

Clarke stills, gives Lexa time to calm down and reminding her to stay quiet before she starts slowly pumping in and out.

Lexa holds on to the edge of her desk as Clarke works her up, but then Clarke hits a particularly good spot and Lexa moans again, her right hand shooting out and fisting the material of Clarke’s shirt at her back.

“Sssh, it’s okay, just hold onto me.” Clarke whispers in her ear and Lexa whimpers.

She manages to stay quiet for a few minutes then, but as she feels her orgasm building it becomes increasingly more difficult.

Clarke notices the tension in Lexa’s body, knows she’s close, hears her soft whimpers growing louder again.

“You’re doing great, Lex, it’s okay.”

Clarke speeds up, thrusting deeper and applying more pressure to Lexa’s clit and Lexa has to cling to something, so she tangles her hand into Clarke’s hair as she presses closer and rests her forehead against Clarke’s shoulder.

She’s so close, she can’t help her moans anymore and Clarke keeps whispering into her ear how good she’s doing, but she’s only making it worse.

When Lexa fights another moan and Clarke somehow reaches even deeper, she loses a bit of her control and bites into Clarke’s collarbone.

It actually makes Clarke moan and that, compared with a deep thrust, triggers Lexa’s orgasm. She tries to breathe through it, panting against Clarke’s shoulder as she feels her fingers slowly bringing her down.

“Fuck, Clarke.” She breathes when she’s come down and in response she feels Clarke smile against her cheek and press a soft kiss to her heated flesh.

(Lexa replays that afternoon in her mind later that night and the next morning. And that Friday she fucks Clarke against the wall of the apartment before they even make it to the bedroom.)

 

Lexa likes to spend her time in old bookstores, surrounded by stories and history, and she likes travelling to new parts of her city to find new bookstores. On this particular Monday she stumbles across a small store an hour’s drive from her apartment.

There’s a single window looking into to the store and on it are big stickers reading “ _Indra’s_ ”. Lexa falls in love with the store while still standing on the curb.

She spends nearly half an hour on the first floor before moving upstairs and the first thing she notices there isn’t the amount of books, but instead two racks with postcards.

It’s not like Lexa is a fan of postcards; she never even sends them on the rare occasion that she’s on holiday. But these postcards catch her eye because they feature pictures of paintings.

Most she doesn’t know, but some of the more famous ones – like the Mona Lisa and The Starry Night – were what caught her eye in the first place.

Lexa walks over to the rack, thumbing through the cards, unable to stop thoughts of Clarke and if she should buy her one, but then, which one? Without thinking she takes her phone from her pocket and pulls up her conversation with Clarke.

**Lexa  
** [12:14 PM] Who is your favourite painter? 

She patiently waits for a reply as she continues to look through the cards, discovering paintings she’d never seen before.

Lexa would describe herself as a casual art-lover. She couldn’t tell you about techniques or histories to save her life, but she likes spending hours on end in museums.

Just when she is about to move on to the books and return to the postcards later, her phone chimes with a reply from Clarke.

**Clarke  
** [12:19 PM] Why?

**Lexa  
** [12:19 PM] Just a question. 

**Clarke  
** [12:20 PM] Well, that’s quite a random question, Miss Woods. 

**Lexa  
** [12:20 PM] Just answer the question, Miss Griffin. 

**Clarke  
** [12:20 PM] Monet. Michelangelo. Oh, and this dude on Instagram. 

**Lexa  
** [12:21 PM] That’s all? 

**Clarke  
** [12:21 PM] What? It’s not good enough for you? 

**Lexa  
** [12:21 PM] No, I just meant that I had expected a lot more names. 

**Clarke**  
[12:21 PM] It’s not as much about the painter as it is about the painting.   
[12:22 PM] The painting is what inspires me or makes me emotional or whatever. Most times I hardly care who painted it.   
[12:22 PM] So if you’d ask me about my favourite paintings, well... We’d be here a while. 

**Lexa**  
[12:23 PM] Then I’ll just have to ask you about them some other time.   
[12:24 PM] Thank you, Clarke. 

**Clarke**  
[12:24 PM] No problem.   
[12:24 PM] What’s this all about though? 

**Lexa  
** [12:25 PM] You’ll see. 

Lexa spends another ten minutes going through the postcards and making a selection out of which she chooses three that she ultimately takes home.

 

Wednesday comes and Lexa wakes restless. Before, Lexa could last an entire week until the next Friday before her desire for Clarke became overwhelming. But last week Clarke fucked her in her office and the week before that she fucked Clarke in her gallery and now she’s craving Clarke again.

She contemplates texting Clarke, letting her know, asking her to meet, but ultimately decides she is in need of serious self-control and instead heads for the shower.

She tries to go about her day as casual as possible, opting for an outdoor lunch and bringing a thick book to keep her mind off of Clarke.

But fate decides to tempt her, because just as she has finished her sandwich, sipped her fresh coffee and opened her book, she hears a familiar voice curiously enquiring if it’s really her.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice sounds pleasantly surprised and something jolts inside Lexa. She lowers her book to look at a smiling Clarke.

“Hey.” She replies, almost breathless from surprise and the way Clarke looks today. A sleeveless, white blouse buttoned all the way to the top and stuffed inside ridiculously short black shorts.

Lexa really tries not to stare, but she knows she has failed when she hears Clarke chuckle. She returns her gaze to Clarke’s eyes with a soft blush.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It is the desired response.”

“You want people to stare at you?” Lexa asks almost incredulous.

“It’s nice sometimes. Especially when they look at me like they want to devour me.”

Lexa’s eyes darken as her jaw goes rigid. Clarke reads her so well, so effortlessly. (Or is she just that obvious?)

There’s a witty response Lexa would like to make, but nothing coming to mind and before she has the chance to think about it any longer, Raven appears next to Clarke.

“Lexa! Are you all alone?”

“Yes, actually, I am.”

Raven looks at her for a silent second, then glances to Clarke before returning to Lexa with a wide smile.

“You should join us!”

Clarke and Lexa begin to protest at the same time, but Raven simply holds up her hand and silences them.

“Come on, it’ll be a lot more fun than sitting by your lonesome. Plus,” she turns to Clarke now, “we’ll have someone actually interesting to talk to instead of listening to Finn all through lunch.”

“Finn?” Lexa questions, looking to Clarke who eyes her with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, Clarke’s boyfriend. He’ll be joining us too in a bit.” Raven sounds almost bored as she explains.

Lexa is looking for a reason to decline, too polite to just admit that she’s quite content by herself. But she also likes spending time with Clarke like this, like they’re friends who get to talk about their lives.

And maybe she’s a bit of a masochist, because she would gladly sit through a lunch with Clarke and her boyfriend if it means she can just be around Clarke a bit longer. So she nods.

“Sure. I already had lunch, but I can stay for a while.” She thinks she sees Clarke sigh in relief, but quickly brushes it off as her mind being over imaginative again.

Raven quickly drags an extra table next to Lexa’s as Clarke brings over the chairs and then Raven is sitting next to her and Clarke opposite from her and she’s feeling a little awkward suddenly.

“So Lexa,” Raven turns to her with an enthusiastic smile, “I’ve been doing some research on you and for the life of me, I just can’t find your books. Won’t you tell me your penname?”

“Why are you so interested?” Lexa teases and from the corner of her eye she sees Clarke roll her eyes.

“Raven just wants to know how steamy your steamy scenes get.”

“So you’re interested in gay porn?”

“I thought it was erotic literature?” Raven counters before turning to Clarke with a stern look. “And yes, Clarke, as a matter of fact, I do. Not all of us have a kinky sex life.”

Lexa turns to Clarke now too, her eyebrow raised in curiosity. She’s pretty sure she is the only one Clarke is having sex with and she clearly remembers her rule of not mentioning the other to family and friends.

But Clarke isn’t paying any attention to her; she’s too busy trying to scold Raven with her eyes alone. Raven isn’t fazed though, she just smirks proudly, but it quickly vanishes when her gaze locks with something over Clarke’s shoulder.

Lexa watches as Clarke looks over her shoulder to see a man approaching them and she sees her shoulders slump. It’s a small change in Clarke’s posture, but it doesn’t go unnoticed.

The man approaches their table and takes the seat next to Clarke, turning to her when he’s settled.

“Hey,” he smiles timidly. Clarke doesn’t verbally answer, just smiles back and then he’s leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her lips.

Lexa has to actually look away. Her stomach dropping as she fully registers that this is the boyfriend. This is Finn, kissing _his_ girlfriend, the girl she has so quickly fallen in love with.

When they break apart, Clarke instantly looks to Lexa, but Lexa doesn’t see it because she is too busy pretending to put her book in her bag.

It’s only when Raven addresses Finn that she looks up again, locking eyes with Clarke. She tries to hold her gaze, but she can’t so she turns to look at Finn, who is also looking at her with his brows furrowed.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” He says.

“We haven’t.” She simply replies. “I’m Lexa.”

“Lexa.” He murmurs, his eyes going unfocused as he seems to think. Lexa notices Clarke straightening her back and taking a deep breath, when she dares a glance at her, she sees her eyes are panicked.

Then Finn shrugs and focuses on Lexa again, a fake smile on his lips. “How do you know Clarke and Raven?”

“My sister works with Octavia.” Is the only explanation she offers, too focused on Clarke. To her relief she sees Clarke relaxing and releasing her breath.

For now Lexa decides not to focus on Clarke too much and instead on getting through this lunch. So she answers the questions she’s asked and after half an hour of pleasantries, she excuses herself.

On the way home she thinks about Clarke’s body language and what it all meant. And when she’s still pondering it after dinner, she decides to give in and reach out.

**Lexa  
** [7:17 PM] Are you okay? 

**Clarke  
** [7:20 PM] Yeah. 

Lexa stares at her phone, wondering what else she could say, if she should even say anything at all. Minutes pass and when her phone dings with a notification again she nearly drops it in surprise.

**Clarke  
** [7:24 PM] No. 

She watches as the three dots appear and disappear again for a full two minutes before she starts attempting to write her own reply. She begins differently three times before finally settling on what she has wanted to ask since this morning, although her motives are far different now.

**Lexa  
** [7:27 PM] Would it be weird if I came over? 

**Clarke**  
[7:28 PM] No.   
[7:28 PM] I would like that. 

**Lexa  
** [7:28 PM] I’ll be there soon. 

As Lexa rings the doorbell and waits for Clarke to open, she fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt. A nervous tic she hasn’t had since she was 16 and asked her first girlfriend out on their first date.

Clarke opens the door wearing grey sweats and a navy blue hoodie. She looks absolutely adorable, but she doesn’t think it too appropriate to voice that thought now. So she smiles and Clarke smiles back as her body slumps with relief.

Lexa enters and walks into the living room, where she turns around to look at Clarke who followed her in. The air between them is completely different from all the other times they stood in this apartment.

It’s not awkward or uncomfortable, but for the first time it’s not sexually charged and Lexa finds she’s a little unsure of how to act now.

“Do you want to...” Her voice is small and she doesn’t finish the question, just looks at Clarke and hopes her eyes are conveying that she doesn’t expect anything. That she would be just as happy to sit on the couch and not talk.

“No. Maybe. Just not right now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Lexa shrugs out of her jacket and hangs it over the back of the chair and then they’re once again standing silent and motionless in the living room.

If she were to look at this from another perspective, Lexa would be laughing at herself. She is 28 years old and currently doesn’t exactly know how to act around her crush; afraid she’ll push too far and make her uncomfortable.

But luckily for her, Clarke seems to have no such reservations. She steps closer and grabs Lexa’s hand, silently leading her into the bedroom. She doesn’t let go as she lies down and pulls Lexa with her.

They move around until they’re comfortable; both on their sides with Lexa spooning Clarke. And then they’re silent again for long minutes, just breathing each other in. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Clarke takes a deep breath and remains silent so long Lexa thinks she just won’t answer.

“I told Finn about you. Weeks ago and I had kind of forgotten. I guess I was just scared he’d freak out.”

Lexa doesn’t even know what to say. For someone who is so apt with language, she nearly always finds herself at a loss for words around Clarke.

But then Clarke lets out a humourless chuckle and the mood shifts. “I guess he forgot too. Or he didn’t listen in the first place, which seems much more likely.”

“Hey,” Lexa tries to soothe her as she rubs her hand up and down Clarke’s arm. Clarke sighs and lets her body melt against Lexa’s before she turns around in her embrace.

They’re so close, Lexa can feel Clarke’s breath on her lips and it’s overwhelming. Clarke is staring at her, but she can’t help but let her gaze drop to Clarke’s parted lips.

“Lexa.” She hears Clarke’s voice somewhere in the distance, isn’t sure if it’s real or imagined, because right after her name she hears Clarke telling her to lose control; just like she had in the bathroom in Arkadia.

And she’s about to do it. She’s about to throw all her inhibitions to the wind and lean in and finally, _finally_ , capture Clarke’s lips with her own.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and then she’s leaning in to kiss her. She can hear Clarke gasp, but there’s no movement or indication of her pulling away, so she doesn’t stop.

She’s so close, she can feel Clarke gripping her shirt in anticipation and then...

Then they are literally torn apart by the sound of Clarke’s ringtone blasting from her phone on the nightstand. The sudden sound makes them jump apart and Clarke scrambles to reach her phone.

Lexa doesn’t stay to find out who’s calling, instead she gets off the bed and pads into the bathroom, needing some air and probably a splash of freezing cold water in her face.

She stays in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror, for what feels like hours, but she knows she has to come out and face the music eventually. So with a deep breath, she turns around and mentally prepares herself to confront Clarke again.

When she steps back into the bedroom, Clarke is sitting on the edge of the bed, sitting cross legged. Lexa stops short a few feet away.

Clarke is looking up at her with vulnerability and regret and Lexa sighs deeply. “What are we doing, Clarke?”

She needs to know for herself, she needs to know what’s going on in Clarke’s head so she can maybe make sense of it all. But Clarke doesn’t answer, she just sighs and looks away.

“We’re breaking the rules. _Your_ rules.”

“I know.” Clarke whispers.

“We should stop.” Lexa says, her voice almost a whisper too.

At this, Clarke snaps her head up and looks at Lexa, shock and panic evident. “What?”

“We should stop breaking the rules. If we want this to... to go on, we should stop, we should...” She doesn’t finish her sentence, because she’s not sure what they should do, but Clarke is nodding so she thinks she at least understands what Lexa is trying to say.

She nods too and allows the silence to return, but then it grows uncomfortable.

“So who was calling anyway?” Lexa is not normally one to snoop, but she needs something to talk about.

“Octavia. Raven told her about lunch, she asked if I wanted some company.” Lexa simply nods along, sensing Clarke wants to say more, so she waits for it. “I said yes.”

When her stomach drops, even Lexa herself isn’t sure why. She understands it, knows it’s for the best if she leaves now, but she can’t help but feel pushed away, dismissed.

“Yeah, it’s best if I leave.” She’s a little hurt, so she moves to turn around immediately.

Clarke jumps off the bed and rushes over to Lexa, grabbing her wrist to keep her from leaving. “Lexa, I...”

She’s looking for the words to convey what she’s feeling, but there’s just so much all at once and things she has tried so hard to suppress all coming to life as she thinks about Lexa almost kissing her. And it’s becoming harder and harder to pretend.

They’re staring at each other and Lexa sees the battle in Clarke’s eyes and even while she is hurt, she understands that Clarke’s situation is a difficult one as well. Probably even more so than hers.

Because Clarke has a boyfriend at home and while their relationship may not be perfect, she still has a certain responsibility to him. Lexa on the other hand has a responsibility to no one but herself.

Yes, she stepped into this arrangement with Clarke just for the sex, not looking for anything even remotely resembling a relationship. But she couldn’t help but fall for Clarke and now that she has, she finds that she doesn’t even mind.

If she had to fall in love with anyone, she’s happy it’s with Clarke. Because being in love with Clarke Griffin isn’t a punishment.

It’s just hard to be in love with someone you know you can never be with.

Lexa just nods again and Clarke sighs deeply in return. It’s really time Lexa goes, because after being so close she’s having a really hard time not finishing what she started.

“Maybe I shouldn’t come over on Friday?” Lexa says, because she knows even two days from now, she’ll still want nothing more than to kiss Clarke.

“No, I want you to come! But maybe you’re right. I don’t know, Lex, I just- I’ll let you know?”

Lexa doesn’t verbally answer, just nods one final time before pulling her wrist from Clarke’s hand and wordlessly leaving the apartment.

She goes home feeling weird and not quite sure what just happened, so she decides to take a quick shower and immediately dives in bed afterwards.

Try as she might, she can’t shake thoughts of Clarke or her lips or that gasp just before they were about to kiss, but eventually she falls into a dreamless sleep.

The next day she has two classes to teach and while she feels less hurt than the night before, she’s still a little out of it. Her students notice if their frowns are anything to go by and even her colleagues notice her silence, but luckily no one comments on it.

On the upside, she has managed not to think about Clarke nearly all day. That is until she steps out of her office, ready to go home and succumb to her infatuation with Clarke and she comes face to face with just that person.

“Hey,” Clarke smiles.

“Hey.” Lexa replies, unsure and surprised.

“I came here to give you this.” Clarke extends her hand, a silver key between her fingers. Lexa takes it hesitantly. “Look, I thought about everything and I talked with Octavia last night and you’re right. We have rules for a reason and we just need to get back to the desire. So that’s the key to our apartment and you can let yourself in and I’ll make sure that the only thing you wanna do tomorrow is fuck my brains out.”

Lexa acutely hears the “ _our_ ”, it echoes around in her head, but she doesn’t comment and instead just swallows hard, because Clarke lowering her voice like that when she talks dirty always has a certain effect on Lexa.

“Okay.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird. We’re just having sex.”

Something about those words stings Lexa, but maybe she should start believing them again. It would save her a lot of heartache.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

And just like that, Clarke leaves again and Lexa is left staring at the key in her hand. 

 

Friday morning Lexa finds herself contemplating when she should go over to Clarke, because Clarke never gave her a time, just the key.

They don’t really have a set time; some Friday’s Lexa shows up at two, some at five, on rare occasions she’s there before noon. But today she has no idea when Clarke is expecting her or what she should be expecting.

One thing is true, Clarke’s words were enough for Lexa to get excited about their afternoon together and not focus on her rapidly growing feelings.

In the middle of breakfast, she receives a text message, the phone telling her it’s from Clarke. She thinks it’s probably the time.

But when she opens the message she nearly chokes on her own saliva. It’s a picture of Clarke from the waist down with her hand down her panties.

It’s quickly followed by a caption: _Woke up wet in anticipation of you._

Lexa swallows hard.

There’s no follow up message and Lexa finishes her breakfast with a heavy throat. She momentarily forgets about the picture as she starts to work on her novel, like she does every Friday before going to Clarke.

Two hours in she receives another message. And it’s another picture from Clarke. She braces herself and when she opens it, she is greeted by a shot of Clarke’s chest and stomach, her breasts covered by a silky black push-up bra.

Next comes another picture, from the same angle, but this time Clarke is wearing a sheer, red bra with black lace details and a bow in the middle. Lexa stares at this one much longer until she is brought out of her daze by yet another picture.

It’s the same shot again, but now she’s wearing a sheer, black robe and nothing underneath.

The pictures are again followed by another caption: _What should I wear? Which do you like?_

Lexa doesn’t even hesitate.

**Lexa  
** [12:08 PM] Red. 

**Clarke  
** [12:08 PM] Good choice. 

It takes much longer for Lexa to be able to focus on her work this time. She can’t help but wonder if the panties will match the bra and imaging what it would look like if they do.

Images of Clarke walking around the apartment wearing nothing but lingerie fill her head and she actually has to read a page from her dictionary to get her mind back on track.

It works and she finally gets back to work a little over half an hour after Clarke sent her the pictures.

But then, too soon after she finally finds the words for her novel again, Clarke texts her once more.

**Clarke  
** [12:47 PM] You know what I want? 

Lexa patiently waits for Clarke to tell her, but she watches minutes pass without elaboration.

**Clarke  
** [12:50 PM] Do you want to know, Lexa? 

She doesn’t waste another minute.

**Lexa  
** [12:50 PM] Yes. 

**Clarke**  
[12:50 PM] I want you to fuck me.   
[12:51 PM] I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll forget my own name.   
[12:51 PM] I want you to do it with this. 

The last message is followed by another picture. Lexa’s mouth drops open as she looks at it. It’s a large dildo attached to a leather harness. Lexa’s mind goes blank, only one thought running through it.

_She’s asking me to fuck her with a strap-on_.

Everything in Lexa screams at her to forget about the goddamn novel or the fact that she’s wearing shorts and looks less than desirable. She wants to run to Clarke and do exactly that which is asked of her.

But she holds back, decides in a split second to draw out Clarke’s game. But then comes Clarke’s last message:

**Clarke  
** [12:55 PM] Do me a favour, hotshot. Wear a suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have heard your requests and I will see you all soon for the next Sinday!


End file.
